


Weekend Visit

by FrangipaniFlower



Series: The Recovery Series [1]
Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Healthy Relationships, Kissing, Love Confessions, Recovery, Rehab, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:32:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrangipaniFlower/pseuds/FrangipaniFlower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starts way after 5.12, Quinn survived, is healing and in rehab. Carrie visits him often and now is his first weekend outside the clinic. Completely unrelated to my other stories, just a mostly happy, fluffy recovery fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Carrie's Friday

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Laure001 for prompting this.

Carrie was in a rush and fidgety, Maggie could see the minute her sister arrived at her place. No wonder, she thought, she had waited so long for this day to come. But still.

-Carrie, calm down, you don't do anybody any good if you have a car accident on your way.

-I am calm. See, supercalm, all-zen, and it's still plenty of time. But, can I go now?

-Oh, I was hoping we'd have a coffee together and you could drop off Josie at her ballett class on the way and maybe wait for her until she finishes and...Carrie, don't look at me like this, it was a joke, a joooooke, I know you wanna leave and be there as early as you can.

-It's just...I promised him to be there before night rounds. The night meds knock him out like a lamp and I promised to be there before he has to take them. Last week traffic was so bad, he was asleep when I finally arrived. He'd thought I wouldn't come.

A shadow darted across her face when she thought back to last week. It was indeed still sometimes difficult between them.

-Just go. But promise me to stay calm and drive careful.

-I will. You're sure Frannie can stay all weekend?

-As long as you want her to be here. And if you feel like you want him to see her an hour or two just pick her up and bring her back then. And now go.

-Maggie, I...can you believe, we came this far? Can you pinch me? 

Maggie's expression softened when she saw her sister's eyes getting moist.

-It's a miracle, I know. And I know what it cost you. Both. But remember when things were really dark in winter? I told you, the day would come when you look back and say, it was worth it. And see, today is that day. First weekend out is a huge step.

-I know. It's exciting. But also a bit...intimidating...what if there's any problem and I don't know what to do? I am not a trained professional.

-He'll get an emergency kit with his meds. And a monitoring device for his vitals. And he is used to the signs and will notice and let you know early. And, although I don't believe this will be necessary, you can always call 911, nobody will blame you for a premature call which turns out unneccessary. People, especially professionals, will know who he is and what he's been through, everybody will be glad to help. But, again, I don't think that's gonna happen. He's doing good, that's why he's allowed out this weekend. Enjoy it, Carrie, don't you worry, enjoy the time with him.

Maggie gave her sister a smile, somewhere between symphatic and knowing. Carrie blushed, and Maggie thought, how sweet this was.

-Thanks, Mags.

Carrie kissed her sister and her daughter good-bye and jumped into her car, quickly pulling out of Maggie's drive way, heading eastwards, out of the town. If she was lucky it would be a two hours drive and she'd arrive late afternoon, maybe there would be still enough time for a stroll through the park.

When she had crossed the city and entered the highway she allowed her mind to wander. Maggie was right, it was a fucking miracle. Not only Quinn being alive and awake but finally doing so well that he was allowed to leave the rehab facility for a weekend. 

It was nearly a year since the horrible incident in Berlin, ten months since he woke up from what in the end hadn't been minimal conciousness but a severe brain injury and coma, seven months since he'd been transported to the US. 

Especially during the weeks of his coma and then the first months when he couldn't communicate well, Carrie had been forced to make some tough decisions. Given the fact that Quinn and she never had talked about any of this stuff, it had been overwhelming, she just had not known whether he wanted to live or die, or if he'd value a life with grueling rehab, some damage probably irreversible, not to mention the mental damage. 

And after the doctors had been sure he'd survive, had a good chance to regain some kind of independent mobility, wouldn't need a respirator permanently, his lungs would heal, slowly, but they'd heal, and the tremor would get lesser, after all those good news, a massive depression had kicked in and nearly finished what the sarin gas hadn't succeeded. 

During those desperate weeks in winter, Carrie had been pretty sure to finally loose him. She had driven to his clinic four nights a week in those angstfilled weeks, a four hours drive, to be with him for an hour, to give him something to hold on to. Quite often he had refused to even look at her. Honestly, if her favourite nurse hadn't told her over and over that he was waiting for her, that the days which were the non visiting days were even worse, that the days she came he made the effort to get up, shower and shave, get dressed and eat whereas he stayed mostly in bed the other days...maybe she would have caved and stopped coming.

And then, one Saturday in late March, he had waited for her in the entrance hall, not in sweatpants and hoodie but real clothes. He had been able to walk a few steps back then but had brought a wheelchair along - although she knew he hated it - and had asked her to take him outside for a walk. She had never been to the clinic's park before, the first weeks after his arrival it had just been out of reach, his range had been very limited these days, exactly the two metres cord lenght of the oxygyn nasal tube. 

And when he hadn't needed that anymore his severe depression had overshadowed everything else. She had been surprised how nice the park was. He had asked her to bring him to the far end and once they had arrived there had indicated on a bench for her to sit down. It had been a sunny, yet chilly day, spring had just been about to start but the nights had been still freezing. He had made the effort to get up and manoeuver over to sit next to her, when she had been about to help him, a piercing look and indignant 'no' had nipped her attempt in the bud. 

Once he had seated himself next to her it had taken him a while to calm his breath down again - he was so much better now, just four months later, she thought with relief. She had just sat there next to him and had enjoyed being outside, with him, without fearing him to hang himself with the next best thing available the minute she was through the door. She had been caught by surprise when she suddenly had felt his hand covering hers. It was the first time he had actively and deliberatly been touching her. 

And then, she had started to cry. For the first time since he was awake she had allowed herself to loose it in his presence. After eight months of being strong, calm and stable, trying not to worry him with her sorrow, she suddenly had not been able anymore to hold the facade, not even for him. She had cried and sobbed, had repeated the three sentences -I thought you gonna die, I can't see you dying again, please don't die - over and over again, and he had pulled her to his shoulder and had hold her, for the two hours of her desperate, heart-breaking, gut-wrenching breakdown. 

Carrie smiled at the memory of the following conversation, even at best of times Quinn hadn't been the most talkative guy and the damage to his lungs hadn't made that any different. The more his lungs improved and the more they had gotten acquainted with each other the more they became used to talk but back then...

When she had calmed down a bit he had muttered something close to her ear.

-What was that? 

-I am sorry, Carrie.

-No, I am. But, sitting here with you was just...

-Yeah?

-It feels good. Alive.

-Yeah? 

-Quinn, I was so worried about you.

-It's ok.

-It feels nice, you touching me.

-I wanted, for quite some time.

-That's why you brought me here?

-I wanted to be alone with you, to say thank you, even if it's just to hold your hand. That's all I can do. Talking about low standards here.

That had made her cry again.

-For me, this is huge. Stop saying such things. You weren't there when I saw you dying. 

-No, I was there. I was the guy dying. I was there, Carrie. Bring me back now, would you?

It had taken them three more visits to the parkbench to get through to the fact that she loved him - and two more for him to confess, in actual spoken words, he still loved her.

Well, confession didn't really fit, she chuckled at the memory of that conversation. 

After he had been better again, she had to cut back the frequency of her visits. Frannie just couldn't stay four nights a week and one day during weekends with her sister or the babysitter. Instead of four to five short visits and a lot of hours of driving, she had arranged things in way allowing her to come Friday evening, see him an or two hour before night meds. Then she spent the night in a B&B downtown and was back Saturday morning, so they could spend the day together. He had to do therapy on weekends too, just a few sessions of 'homework' for OT or PT, playing chess, doing sudokus or crossword puzzles or going on a walk - stuff they could do together, so the day of her visit always passed quickly. Most weeks she went on Tuesday or Wednesday evening as well, to see him for an hour. After a full day of rehab sessions he usually was done in and in bed by the time she could be there but due to her being his only visitor ever and him being kind of the star patient, the head nurse had determined that Carrie was allowed in the ward after visiting hours. She usually stayed until the night nurse came with his meds, somehow he had talked them into giving him these later on her visiting days, not right after dinner. They didn't talk much during these visits, as he was very tired, his voice strained and his hands shaking, getting up was not an option at all then. But she could sit with him, hold his hand and tell him about her week or about Frannie. Sometimes she read a chapter from one of his books for him. 

Of course he always told her she didn't need to come during weeknights, that it was too far, that she needed a break for herself, that she should stay home with Frannie. But, his face lit up when she entered the room and seeing this, plus the butterflies in her tummy which got very excited then, were absolutely worth the drive.

It had been one of her Saturday visits. He had been waiting for her in the lobby, wheelchair with him, but he had walked himself, saying he might need it for the way back. He had been, and still was, slow, but over the weeks she had been seeing the progress he made, he had been working hard on regaining strength, stamina, dexterity and motor skills - and still did so, she knew from the progress he made and the head nurse gave her updates, every now and then, knowing that he was not the most talkative guy in the ward. According to the nurse he didn't grant himself any mercy at all.

So they had walked through the park, she had pushed the wheelchair and had talked about random things. In fact, she had been babbling. Because she hadn't wanted him to feel awkward. And going so slow had been kind of new - and difficult - for her, and she hadn't wanted him to notice her irritation, he had been so focused on walking, all those steps to the far end of the park, because they always went to 'their' bench. She had been in the middle of telling him about her latest quarrel with Dar - not about work, but Dar and she were kind of friiieeeends now, after those horrible weeks in Landstuhl - when they finally had arrived at the bench. He had plumped on the bench, visibly exhausted, while she had been finishing her pointless story about Dar and had fiddled in her bag for the water she had brought along. When she had looked up she had caught his gaze, all of a sudden.

-I like it when you look at me like this.

-Like what?

-Like now. Like...you like me.

-I don't like you, Carrie.

-Uh, uhm, then...

-I love you.

-Oh. But...why did you never say? 

-I thought I didn't have to.

-Why?

-I thought you know. I know you read the letter. And I didn't want to pressure you. I know what my chances are.

-But the letter was nearly three years old when I got it.

-But I never replaced it by another one.

-Which you didn't because?

-Because it felt still valid.

-And during all my visits you never said...Why?

-It's not that I got a lot of love declarations from you.

-Not until recently, that's true. But two weeks ago, I said it. And you didn't say anything.

-I thought, you knew. 

-And during all my visits, you never...

-And then what? You to say, sorry, my fault, I just wanted to be nice to you, but what the fucking hell are you thinking? 

-Stop this bullshit, Quinn, just stop it.

-You started it.

-Quinn, you know, I was told, that adult people who reciprocate each others feelings sometimes even express those feelings, mutual, that is. And the letter was past tense, anyway.

She had sat down next to him on the bench, unsure of what to say or do next, when he had reached out to her with one arm and pulled her close, to whisper in her ear.

-I love you, Carrie, that will never change.

And those butterflies...yeah, well, it felt good, so good.


	2. Quinn's Friday

Quinn sat on a bench in front of a doctor's office, waiting. He didn't mind waiting, never had, about 80% of the time during his missions had been waiting, so he was used to it. And waiting for a doctor was easier as waiting for Carrie. She had promised to be there in time, and he knew she really tried, each time. But he also knew it was difficult for her, she had to take care of Frannie, was juggling work, Frannie and being with him plus the long drives, he sometimes saw the exhaustion on her face when she arrived. And he hated it, or better, he hated the fact that he was doing this do her, that he was not able to ease anything for her.

On dark days he thought he was just another burden for her, on very dark days he couldn't even look at her when she sat there, tired and drained, two hours driving here, two hours more to go back home, only to be with him for an hour. On good days he hoped that she got something out of these visits for herself, that he was - even in his current stage - kind of a solid rock for her, that she was not just holding his hand for his sake but for hers as well. On very good days he was even ambitious enough to think she was happy to be with him - and needed him as much as he needed her. Those days were rare, though, but they existed, only just recently, but they existed. 

He felt awful about it, but that day in the park, their first walk -well, he had been in the fucking wheelchair but is there a verb for a walk in a wheelchair, was that a 'wheel' then? - when she had cried for about two hours and he had held here in his arm...that had felt so good. 

Good in a very complex way. First of all because she was suddenly so close, physically close. After months of maybe sometimes her holding his hand or a quick hug when she arrived or left it had been the first time he had been touching her, had been allowed to savour her sweet smell, her warmth, the softness of her body against his. Yes, he had gotten humble these days, after months of nothingness this was enough to make him happy, it had been the most of tender human contact he had gotten in years. Secondly, because of what she had said, or sobbed. Don't die. Over and over again. That had been nice to hear, so nice, that it had taken him a few minutes to try to console her. Because as long as he had not done anything she had said it over and over again. Not as good as the 'I love you' he had gotten three weeks later, but again, he was humble these days. And thirdly, because it had been the first time in all those months she had needed him. The first time he had been able to be there for her. So, awful or not, of course her sobbing had broken his heart and he had wanted her to feel better...but still, he had enjoyed the incident.

Usually, Fridays had a very strict routine, he didn't want to start waiting for her too early. Today was different, he had an extra appointment with a doctor, because it was his first weekend 'home'. That's what they all called it and he didn't bother to explain them that there was no home for him. The appointment was scheduled as a briefing what he was allowed to do, which meds to take, how to use the heart monitor. That sucked, but they had made that a prerequisite for allowing him to leave for two days. Heartrate had to be below 100, otherwise his breathing rate would increase too much for his lungs to cope. It was ridiculous, 100, his resting heart rate in his active days had been 45, but again, you learn to get humble.

When he'd been done here he would go to the gym, use one of the ergometers for about an hour, then shower and shave and then...yeah, well, back to waiting, Friday afternoons had no scheduled therapy sessions as most of the patients left for the weekend. He would read then, yes, that was a good idea.

Waiting for her was much better than the days without her. Sundays were worst because everybody else had visitors or was gone and the prospect of at least three days without her was usually depressing. Mondays and Tuesdays were better, he had scheduled a lot of sessions then and Wednesday wasn't far. Wednesdays were good, because she came. The last Wednesday had been particular good because she had insisted to stay until he had taken his meds and had asked whether he'd mind her lying next to him for a while. What a question. She had said, she wanted him to hold her for a while because she had missed him so much. And she had stayed until he was asleep. Thursday weren't that bad because she'd be back on Friday night, just for an hour before bedtime and before she'd settle in her B&B and then she'd be back on Saturday mornings. Saturdays were great, because she was there all day.

And his Sundays had improved a lot recently. He had found a friend. Or, the friend had found him. Jim, seventy years old, here for rehab after his second stroke, Vietnam veteran, second generation Irish, married to Patty since 48 years, four daughters, an equal amount of sons in law, nine grandchildren (or was it ten?), a tall, large man who had asked him over for a round of chess the day after his wife had dropped him at the ward. He had seen that video, of course, fucking everybody had, but at least Jim had had the guts to tell him right away. And, he hadn't apologized. A huge plus in Quinn's book because what was there to apologize for? Why were complete strangers who had never set a foot on german soil apologizing to him? He had fucking underestimated those guys, end of story, the one fucking fatal mistake in his career. Jim had said, at the end of their first round, he knew the costs of war. And a few days later, after aqua therapy, yeah, again one learnt to get humble here and do all kind of shit, Quinn had told him the whole story. For the first time ever. They met for chess now every afternoon and sat together during meals, a nice change after the months he had eaten alone in his room.

Jim's family came on Sundays, four cars full of people between three and sixty-eight years, with a huge stack of heat retaining boxes with home-made food. And when Jim had noticed that Quinn had no visitors on Sundays he had invited him to join their lunch. Patty had asked why such a cute boy, yeah, those had been the exact words, had no girlfriend and he had surprised himself by saying that he indeed had one but that Carrie only came on Saturdays because of her daughter. Well, then, Patty had answered, how lucky we are to have you on Sundays then. And since then, they had invited him to join them each and every Sunday. They were loud, cheerful, the sons in law and Jim discussing politics, the daughters joining those discussions but leaving when they changed topic to baseball, the grandchildren all over the park with all the toys they had brought along. And Patty right in the middle of it, giving out food, bandaids, hugs. Quinn wished, Carrie and Frannie could be there, and meet those people too.

Jim wasn't a keen sportsman, he hated physical therapy whereas Quinn didn't mind. Somehow he had survived so far and maybe it was time to get better, so he'd set himself with the help of the therapists an ambitioned schedule. He hated occupational therapy and the shrink sessions. As he had made a strict point not to go to music or art therapy and excluded pottery, knitting and stitching as well, he had to do wooden crafts and cooking. And trauma counseling. But here was the thing, talking with the therapist, a nice woman in her early thirties, didn't help at all because honestly, what could he tell her without ruining her nights' sleep for the next decades? But, talking with Jim, that was possible, he was able to do that. Even some carefully chosen bits of the classified stuff, because who gave a fuck now, and he changed some of the details, like countries and dates but was honest about what he had done there. Jim told him, he himself still had nightmares about Vietnam. They spoke a lot, nearly every day, but not about Carrie. That was...he didn't know, maybe too precious to share.

But Jim didn't see him on Saturdays, Saturdays were Carrie's days. He had made it a habit to wait for her downstairs in the lobby and then they went outside right away, he desperatly needed time alone with her. Not that he really had used it yet, although he had made plans to kiss her, every week. But as she hadn't made any attempts except a peck every now and then, usually when she arrived and left, and of course a lot of holding hands and his arm around her shoulder when they were finally sitting at the bench, he hadn't done it yet. Until last weekend. 

He had replayed that kiss in his memory at least a thousand times. And the prevenient incident as well. As usual he had been waiting for her in the lobby although he hadn't been sure wether she'd come, she hadn't been there the night before, at least not before bedtime. But when the doors had opened at 8.00 am sharp she had rushed in, wound her arms around him and apologized for being late last night. She had been there but only when he had been asleep, which had felt a bit awkward. And then it had happened. The head nurse had walked by and had stopped, of course. And then...she had asked Carrie, why she did the long drive for a day, when she could just take him home for the weekend. He would never forget Carrie's eyes, when she had looked at him before she had answered. She had been hurt and disappointed. And then had said, we'll do that next week, tomorrow I have a thing at my daughter's school I couldn't postpone, but we'll start home weekends next week. She had lied for him.

She hadn't talked on the way through the park. He had been without wheelchair for the first time, determined to walk both ways on his own, but she either hadn't noticed or had decided not to comment on it.

When they had arrived the park bench they had sat down and she had finally looked at him, saying nothing, but teary eyes. And then it had happened. His only concern had been not to make her cry, he wanted their day to be a happy day and so he had stopped thinking, stopped weighing options and considerations but had just bent forward to kiss her. Tentative at first, but lingering, not pulling back when she answered in the same way. She had tasted and felt every single bit as sweet and soft as he had remembered. And his body had responded in a way he hadn't felt alive in years. Suddenly the only thing each and every single piece of him had been yearning for had been being with her. He had forgotten about breathing problems, tremor, being a cripple, everything else, it had been just her, in his arms, at his lips, under his hands. He had pulled her in his lap, his hands around her face, her hands at his nape, in his hair, and when she had parted her lips and their tongues had met...Jesus...there had been no way to stop, tasting her had been being alive. He had kissed her until he had finally and absolutely been out of breath. But, she had been too and her cheeks had been flushed. That had been the good part of that morning. The worst part had followed immediatly afterwards.

-Ok, I give you that it was a great try to distract me. But, Quinn, what the fuck?

-Carrie...

-No, Quinn. No. You think I come here for fun? Because I like hospitals so much? Because I can't kill my time elsewhere? Because I like this park bench so much that I can't come up with other ideas where to date you?

-Please, don't cry.

-I'm not.

-You are.

-Fuck, Quinn, why? I don't get it.

-I didn't want to impose on you...that you feel like you have to...

That hadn't make it any better, more of the opposite.

-Fuck, Quinn, what do you think we're doing here? Why do you think I come here twice a week, sometimes even four or five times a week? Leave my daughter all those days with my sister or the babysitter? Cry a river, at nights at home, in bed, because I was worried you wouldn't get better or when you finally got better, worrying you might kill yourself the minute I am through the door? You still think, I won't come back each time I leave?

-No, Carrie, I just...

There was just no way telling her that he'd been afraid she'd say no, that he rather not ask instead of asking and hearing a no. Or worse, her saying yes but her eyes telling him she wasn't on board. And, where else should he go?

-How can you keep such news from me? You're not imposing, how can you think so? How can you think I wouldn't wanna be with you, longer, I want that, very much.

And then, God, it had been horrible, embarrassing beyond words. He had tried to answer, had started...

-Carrie, I don't know. Maybe I do have some trust issues. Maybe I am fucked up beyond repair. But of course I want to spend time with you, it's just...I have no idea how much better I'll still get, if I'll ever be the man I used to be...or at least the one I want to be. And I don't know what you see in me. But...

And then he had started crying. First kiss to sobbing fucking mess in less than five minutes. Great. And with the sobbing the breathing issues came. And no wheelchair and oxygen mask within reach.

She had reacted immediatly, had stayed very calm, had rubbed soothing circles on his back and talked to him, had been breathing with him, in on the count of three, out on the count of three, but fuck, he hadn't intended to check out her first aid skills. She had insisted on walking back as soon as he had been able to, and refused to deepen the topic before they had been back in oxygen's reach.

Back in his room, he had asked her if she still wanted him to come to her place next week, after this pathetic display of his current skill set. She had smiled and leant in to kiss him and with that the decision had been made.

She had spent most of the afternoon then to get the paperwork done. Furthermore she had to go through an introduction of how to administer his emergency meds and the oxygin supplies, and when all that had been done there had been just an hour left before she had to leave. 

He had been exhausted from the events of the morning, his tremor much worse than usual, but he had refused to be drugged up as long as Carrie was around. She had blocked the door handle with a chair then, had climbed into his bed and had snuggled against his chest. He had kissed her, again, and it had been as good as the kiss in the morning, not as passionate, the day's events had really been taking its toll, but very tender and promising.

-We'll have more of this next week, she had whispered and god, that sweet sound, she had made, when he kissed her again...

Which, in a way, had brought him here, to this appointment today. He knew it was going to be embarrassing beyond words, that was the reason why he had scheduled it way before Carrie's estimated arrival. The nurse had suggested to have that conversation with the doctor with Carrie together and he had been thankful for the kind advice. Because, that had been a heads up for going alone.

The doctor was a resident he had never seen before, and would hopefully never see again. They talked about his current meds dosage, the importance of not to mix the day and nights meds, the emergency kit with adrenaline injections and Xanax, the first one for coughing fits, the later one in case of flashback or a bad nightmare. He reassured the doc that Carrie was well trained in more than basic first aid and that he felt really good and confident in going 'home' until Monday. And then it came, the talk about 'stressful physical activities'.

-Peter, according to your files you've made great progress in PT and overall fitness over the last weeks.

-I was trained special forces, I had to keep fit all my life.

-But after what you've been through nobody expected you to regain so much independency so quickly.

-Time didn't fucking fly, as far as I am concerned.

-But you're condition is still volatile. Your lung tissue is not recovering as fast as you are regaining overall fitness, and your heart still reacts fast to stress. All of this might still take a while.

-I know.

-Even with your partner trained in first aid, we don't want your first weekend at home to end in a heartattack.

-Me neither.

-So you understand why it's important to keep your heartrate under 100.

-I do.

-Your files from PT say, that going upstairs brought you there quit fast whereas you were able to keep it steady under 100 while doing ergometer training.

-If you say so.

-You already got the heart monitor for PT, so you should wear it all weekend to get a feeling for which activities cause which rates and a warning if it's going to high rates. And we'll be able to discuss the rates on Monday.

-Fine.

-One last thing: We would always suggest a patient with your condition not to engage in sexual activities until you're more stable. There are a lot of other ways to...

-No. Stop. Conversation's over. Do I need to sign anywhere that I've lectured on all this stuff? No. Fine. 

-Look, Peter, I know this is difficult, after such a long time, the first weekend home can be difficult, with all sorts of expectations, some of them maybe unfilled. That's why we usually suggest to have this conversation with the partner together...

-No. No way. You can make me cook and swim and do fretwork, but this conversation is over.

-I see this is agitating you, Peter. Is that gonna be a problem between you and, what's the name of your partner again, Caroline? Do you want me to talk to her?

-It's Carrie. Learn her name before you speculate about her underw...no, just forget about it. And no, you will not talk to her. Are we done hear?

-We are, as long as you don't have any questions.

He wished he could just storm out of the room, but even that satisfaction wasn't granted because - cripple, tremor, heartrate, it just sucked. So he just walked slowly to the gym, doing his rounds with the ergometer, keeping his heartrate at a steady 90, wasn't he a good boy? God, he really had to get into a better mood unless he wanted Carrie to interrogate him about the cause of his bad mood.

The truth was, he was indeed fucking scared about that part of the weekend. Because, what had happened so far? Four kisses, one of these three years ago, a couple of hugs, a lot of holding hands, love declarations had been made and they had snuggled in his bed, twice, which had felt extraordinary good. This weekend was their first date. Only that it included a sleepover right away. He didn't expect anything to happen in that field, he was well aware of his limitations, and it was far too early, not that he didn't like thinking about it...but he had no idea what Carrie thought about this particular part of their weekend arrangements. He'd find out soon enough but probably they should talk about this before things got...well, developed potential for misunderstandings.

But thinking about lying next to her all night long, for once to hold her while she fell asleep, kissing her without fearing to be interrupted by a nurse - all that felt extraordinary good. Asking himself what he was most looking forward to, it was probably holding her. There was no way he would take those fucking knock out meds tomorrow before she was asleep. Whenever things had gotten overwhelming, especially in the early months, this had been the mental image he had hold on to, that there might be a day when she would want to lean in, would need him, would want to be with him, and that he wanted to be there and ready for that day. And now he was going home with her, that was almost worth that fucking ridiculous conversation he had just endured. Although the resident had been lucky that he really had been working hard on his anger management issues. 

It had gotten late over his musings, maybe she was already here. And indeed, when he made his way back to his room after a shower, he spotted a familiar blonde shock of hair. She was having coffee with Jim. She hadn't seen him yet and he enjoyed the chance to watch her. She was so fucking gorgeous and her smile, just now as she looked at the pictures of Jim's grandchildren, that was beautiful. 

He made his way over to them and when she saw him through the room, her smile got even broader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who were wondering: There is a real life Jim, of course. I know him since I am 16 and he is every bit exactly the way he appears in this story. One can't be sad when he is around. And of course there is a real life Patty, too. They are married, in real life as well, and are very happy, for nearly 50 years now.


	3. Friday Night

It was later as usual when she settled in her small motel room.

Quinn's friend, it still felt strange thinking about him having a friend, had made her stay long. She had arrived earlier then usual and when Quinn was nowhere around she had been a bit lost but then the huge man with a even huger smile had approached her and invited her to sit with him, introducing himself as Jim, Peter's friend and chess mate. 

Quinn had mentioned him, more than once actually, and had told her about the Sunday lunches and of course she had been grateful for him having someone, especially on those Sundays. She hated leaving on Saturdays, although he never complained. 

But she hadn't met Jim yet. He reminded her a lot of Saul during his best times, he had a warmhearted gravitas, but apparently a lot more humour as Saul ever had shown. And a lot more relatives. They had been in the middle of the photo guided introduction of his wife, children and grandchildren, each member of the family introduced with a little anecdote, she never had giggled so much in any other half hour in her life, when she had seen Quinn entering the lounge, apparently fresh out of the shower, hair tousled and that look on his face when he saw her...

-Well, someone's beaming and all glow, I'd say. Grinning like the cheshire cat. Sit with us, Peter, I introduced myself to the young lady here as you sadly kept her away from me for so long. You don't have to be shy to kiss her just because I am around. I am married nearly 50 years and I have raised four daughters, don't you think, I've seen it all?

Carrie hadn't been able to forebear giggling, Peter Quinn blushing was a too unique sight not to enjoy. The kiss had been a quick peck but there would be other occasions.

-What are the two of you up too?

-Uhm, dunno, a walk maybe?

-I see, some private time. Introducing your beautiful girl to the flora and fauna around, talking about literature and poems. Well, guess what, I'll invite her for dinner. Sadly, the food in the cafeteria here is mediocre at best times but the company is much better.

-I didn't even know you were allowed to have visitors staying for...

-Peter, someone should have taught you some manners. Just because we are stuck in purgatory here that doesn't mean we are behaving like heartless creatures. You two go for your walk and I'll let the kitchen know we are having a guest tonight.

Carrie had managed to hold it until they were outside, although she had been about to burst.

-Someone should have taught you manners...I love your new friend.

-Hah, that's exactly what he's up to. By making jokes at my expense. I knew why I didn't introduce you sooner. You know what's gonna happen?

-No, tell me.

-Before evening's half over he'll ask you to bring him real coffee tomorrow morning and a bottle of whisky on Monday. Cause coffee's crap here and his whisky bottle's nearly empty. And his wife won't bring him a new one, sure as fuck. Let's bet. I bet he'll ask for both before you'll leave here tonight.

She hadn't cared if he was right or wrong, it had just felt so good to see him smile, making jokes. Things had been lighthearted and that had been absolutely new to their repertoire. They had been about half way through the park, and she had let go of his hand - which had been a 'first' too, walking hand in hand, and had felt perfect - and had turned to face him, walking backwards in front of him to do so.

-So, you think he just wants to take advantage from me?

-That, and he likes to see you smile.

-Does he? How do you know? 

-Cause your smile's a beautiful thing. Wait, you're just fishing for compliments here.

-And you fell for it. Works always. So, you wanna bet?

-Yes. And I'll win. So I get to choose the wager.

-Fine. What do you want?

She had liked the smile she had gotten during this exchange, but even more she had liked that he had taken her hand again and had directed her backwards to a tree next to the path. When she had been backed up against the trunk he had bent down and had kissed her. She still vividly remembered the welcome tingle in her stomache and...elsewhere...the moment she had anticipated the kiss, his body looming in front of her, the calloused tips of his fingers gently touching her face, his warmth suddenly so close, god, he had smelled so good and that look in his eyes...he had stopped just millimeters away from her lips.

-I want more of those kisses.

-Good. I want the same if I win.

-Even better, a win-win...

And then he had kissed her and the memory of that kiss still made her dizzy. And the prospect to have free access to those kisses all weekend long...

They hadn't been to the bench, kissing under the tree had been too good to stop and she had decided then and there that she indeed owed Jim a bottle of whisky.

The food in the cafeteria had indeed been worse than mediocre but the conversation had been light and fun, Carrie had enjoyed the evening more than any other in the last months, which was remarkable, given the surroundings and circumstances. But Jim was an animated storyteller and it had felt similiar to the evening of her dad's wake when Quinn and she had sat with Saul and Lockheart and he had given her those small, beautiful, intimate smiles every now and then. Tonight had been the same.

-Will you two be away every weekend now?

-Uhm, I...we haven't...

-We haven't discussed it yet but as long as Peter is allowed to leave every weekend I don't see why not.

-But Frannie...

-Who's Frannie?

-My daughter. She's four.

-Well, then, that is a lot of driving for you anyway. But you could come and stay here, in town, bring her along and join us on Sunday. Our youngest grandchildren are three and four, shouldn't make a difference whether it's ten or eleven kids playing in the park.

-Jim, Carrie needs to...

-Actually, I might do that one weekend. Thanks for the idea.

-And Peter, don't be afraid, you are not stuck here then, you could stay with your two girls at the B&B for the weekend. Patty and the girls stayed there several times, they said coffee was good. Which reminds me: Talking about coffee...

Carrie had seen Quinn leaning back, crossing his arms in front of his chest and raising his eyebrows, smirking. She had given Jim an encouraging smile.

-What time will you be here tomorrow morning?

-Uhm, we haven't decided yet. Quinn, about eight?

-Honey, make an old man happy and make it 8.15. There's a coffee shop in town, opening at 8, could you bring me a grande americano with three sugar and a dash of cream?

-I will do that, Jim, of course.

Soon afterwards Quinn had been tired, she had seen his hands had started to tremble more and more a while ago but had decided not to comment on it. She wasn't his nurse, he had to decide himself when it was enough.

She had followed him to his room and he had asked her to stay for a while. They had snuggled in his narrow bed after he had had his meds, apologizing that he really couldn't postpone them any longer because of the still ever present pain.

-Quinn, that's fine, I know you have to take them. I can't postpone mine either. I learnt that...

-But those will knock me out pretty fast.

-I'll just sneak out and will be back to pick you up tomorrow then.

-With coffee. For Jim.

-With coffee. You want one too?

-Yeah. Black.

-I know. That, I remember.

-Carrie?

His voice had already been slightly slurred.

-Yeah?

-Tomorrow...will I sleep in your bed then?

-Unless you don't wanna take the couch. But it's not very comfy. And I can't guarantee that there are no toys hidden under the cushions, poking in your back.

-No, I don't want that.

-Well, then, you'll gonna sleep in my bed.

-Good. Can we go to sleep early then? Before I have to take my meds? Cause I'd like to hold you until you are asleep. Only if you want that too, of course.

At this point, she had had to swallow back tears, the tendnerness of the question had made her heart ache. She had snuggled deeper into his arms.

-God, you're really drugged up, aren't you?

-I am. Terribly sappy bastard, ain't I?

-You are. But what you said about bedtime tomorrow? I'd like that, a lot.

He had been asleep two minutes later. She had stayed a while longer, enjoying the close embrace. 

When she silently had left the room she had met Jim again in the lounge on her way out.

-Sit with me for a while, my dear, will you? 

He had offered her a glass and -after a quick look whether the nightnurse was around - had filled it with a sip from his flask. Whisky, or probably whiskey, of course. She had known what he was up to before he had even phrased the question. Well, she still didn't mind to loose that bet.

-What time will you be back on Monday?

-Late morning. We'll have to drop my daughter at daycare first.

-Maybe I shouldn't tell you. But did he tell you, he's scheduled for MRI at noon?

-No.

-Have another sip. I thought so. But I thought you might wanna know, figured the narrow tube might be a trigger...

-He told you?

-Yeah.

-That's...uhm, good, I guess. I...found him...there...

-I didn't know that. Still nightmares about it, I guess, uhm?

-It was horrible. But...not in the slightest bit to compare with what he's been through. You saw that video, I assume?

-I did. It's a fucking miracle. And he's fighting hard, every day.

-Usually they drug him up near unconciousness for head scans. Otherwise it gets ugly.

-I figured. Thought it might be nice for him if you were around afterwards. 

-Thank you, Jim. And about the whiskey, Tullamore Dew or Redbreast?

-I'm getting jealous, my dear. Your Peter is a lucky man. Redbreast, please.

-Have a good night, Jim.

Now it was nearly 11 pm and when she curled up under the blanket she decided it had been a very good day.

She couldn't know that Quinn woke up at about 3 am and would swear he still could scent her smell on his pillow. Usually going back to sleep in the middle of the night was difficult but not tonight.


	4. Saturday - The Drive

Carrie was at the clinic 8.15 sharp, and delivered the coffee as promised. Soon, she and Quinn were on their way through the lobby heading towards the parking lot. Eleven months and a couple of days after Astrid and she had found him in Berlin and seven months since he had arrived here. 

Just when they were about to leave the building a young doctor entered, stopping in there way.

-Good morning, Peter. Good morning, Caroline.

-It's Carrie.

-I'm sorry. I made the same mistake yesterday when Peter and I were discussing his limi...

-This is fucking not gonna happen. 

Carrie didn't get it, she was missing something. Suddenly it felt like black ops agent Quinn being back, staring the cute doctor down and clearly scaring the living shit out if him. Probably he knew Quinn's file and enough of his background. Quinn's body was tense, arms loose at his sides, palms to the front and he was opening and closing his hands slowly (and, Carrie noticed surprised, no tremor, must be an uneffected part of his brain taking over here) in a way which was a subtle but visible threat. She had seen this Quinn herself, as object of his attention, twice, once in the parking garage in Islamabad, and once in Berlin, tied to his bed. She knew how the doctor felt. Although her advantage had been she had known Quinn back then, the doc probably didn't know Quinn's nicer sides.

-Uhm, I was just going to say, have a nice weekend. I'll see you next week. Bye.

And off he was, hurrying towards the elevators.

-If that wasn't awkward, then I don't know.

Quinn didn't say anything so Carrie decided to wait, but looking to the frown in her face, he knew she'd get back to the encounter. And he had to tell her anyway, he thought.

Carrie busied herself at the trunk with his bag as she was pretty sure he wouldn't want help while getting and settling in the car. She was nervous and whereas he hadn't said anything, she'd bet he was nervous too.

She looked at him before she started the car.

-Ready?

-Think so. You?

-Yeah. I've been waiting for this, quite a while.

-Then let's go. 

His smile was small and she couldn't make out if he was just nervous or if that strange encounter with the young doctor had set him off the rails.

She reached for his hand once they were on the mainroad and was glad when he not only took her hand immediatly but raised it to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

-Good morning.

-Good morning. Wanna tell me now what that was about?

-Give me a minute, will you. I'll tell you soon.

-Okay.

He didn't let go of her hand though, every now and then she felt his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

It had nearly been an hour when he asked her to stop for a minute. She had been very proud with herself, she could be so patient. Shortly after they were in the parking bay of a gas station and highway diner.

Carrie looked expectantly at him, he just had to get over with it. It was ridiculous. 

Imposing on Carrie wanting to have sex with him because he had to declare himself unfit for it. 

He considered not telling her, chances were quite high they wouldn't get there this weekend, so he could maybe spare himself this embarassment. Would be a nice change, for once skipping a single disgrace. He hadn't dared to ask yet how he'd gotten to the toilet and shower during the first days after his awakening, he was to afraid about the answer. Because, as far as he could remember, not that he was a good reference given the circumstances, she had always been there. His memory of those first days, well, weeks, was cloudy, a grey sticky mass, but whenever he had opened his eyes, she had been there. So, fucking chances were that she had witnessed more than he was comfortable with. 

But, back to today, just in case things would get heated between them, kissing under the tree yesterday had been kind of a foretaste, that had been hot, alone the thought raised his blood pressure, having to say it then...fuck, he would instantly die from shame. Plus, Carrie wouldn't let him off the hook, he had pleaded for some time but she would get back to that scene in the doorway, sure as fuck. And, and that's where he made his decision to just spit it out, she deserved his honesty.

-That doctor, at the clinic?

-Yeah? Is he new to your case? I never saw him before.

-He lectured me yesterday about the precautions for this weekend.

-The med and oxygen-session. I had to do that too, last weekend. But why did that agitate you so much, it's annoying, I know, but nothing we can't handle.

-No, not just meds and oxygen.

Come on just fucking say it, he thought.

-He warned me to have sex with you.

-He did what? How dare he to...No, how dare you to discuss me...us...with him?

She was raising her voice, no, completely wrong approach.

-No, not particularly with you, more in general.

-How many applicants do you have? Hit on any nurse yet? You are an ass, if you did.

Not good either.

-Thanks for the benefit of doubt. And just for the records, I did not, of course not. Carrie, he told me I am not allowed to have sex until my condition's improved significantly. And - and that's what HE was assuming, just to make it  
clear - assuming I'll go to spend the weekend with you, made HIM jump to the conclusion, assuming you and I were a thing for quite a while, that I should know...that you and I would...that I shouldn't...and he wanted to talk about it to you to...the word he was about to use in the doorway was 'limitations'.

-A word you don't like at all.

-No, not at all. Although I am aware that these days, it fits quite often.

-So, just for my clarification, you are trying to tell me you can't fuck me.

-No, I'm not allowed to, that's something different, language is important here.

-Of course, I didn't mean to insult your precious manhood.

-Thanks. Can we...

-No, wait a minute. What makes you think I should know?

-It's an important information to have. That I could, I mean...Not implying that I think we should...I mean, certainly I would, just in case you...Oh wait, stop smirking, this is not funny at all, it's embarrassing beyond words and you are making fun of it. Stop smirking.

She did not stop, but left the car, walked over to his side and climbed his lap.

-Is that ok? Doesn't hurt?

-Of course not. You weigh practically nothing. I was trained...

-...special forces. I know. Would you cut that crap for once? Just because you are allowed an excursion to the real world you don't have to get ascerbic and difficult again.

She was finally settled on his lap and looked at him, still that clearly amused look on her face.

-I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't. But picturing you and that teenager, talking about not having sex with Caroline was just too ridiculous. 

-See.

-I bet the residents had to draw straws and he got the short one: Who has to break the no sex news to the mysterious patient from ward three? Kind of mean of your real doctor to delegate that task. I bet that kid has nightmares now, sex-crazed black ops agent breaking into his room at night and killing him.

-Do they know what I did?

-Of course not. They know you were special forces. And what was in the news after Berlin. But that wasn't too much. I'll tell you later about it, if you want. But, even in your current stage one can see you were physically in very good shape, otherwise you wouldn't do a stunning recovery. And seeing you to switch into ops mode is always impressive.

-Say that again.

-They don't know what you did.

-No, that with 'stunning' and 'impressive'.

She laughed, and then she leant in and kissed him. It was done. And it hadn't been too bad. Time to kiss her back. 

It was a while before she spoke again.

-About what you said...how about if we just take our sweet time? I wouldn't think that...I changed...even when you could...

-I could, I'm just not allowed to.

-That's what I meant.

She was gorgeous when she was this insecure but it was time to release her.

-Time is what we have now, I'd say. So no pressure, ok? Just you and me.

He kissed her again.

-You think people still recognize me? Cause that guy over there is staring at us for about two minutes now.

-First, you should close your eyes when kissing me. Second, I think, he is just a pervert wishing to get laid. He's jealous. Third, I discussed that question a lot this week with Dar and Andrew, and honestly, I don't know.

-Who is Andrew?

-Ah. Andrew. Lockhart.

-Lockhart?! He left the agency.

-He's your lawyer.

-My lawyer?!

-I'd told you sooner. But you didn't give me much time to prepare your first visit to the real world and Wednesday night you were so done in, I decided not to raise the topic. And yesterday was too good to be clouded. Let's talk about it when we are home.

Home. Felt warm, the way she was saying it.

-Back to your question. I guess we can make the assumption that every adult in this country as seen that video. But it's nowhere available anymore. Not legally at least. Lockhart fought and still is fighting some lawsuits for you. We made a poll with an opinion research center when I had to decide for a rehab center, whether a non-military place would be safe enough, unprompted memory of the incident was at 20%, prompted awareness of your picture out of ten random pictures, all white male, was 15%. 

-Great. That's just 45 million north americans remembering me being the guy in the gas chamber.

-But only when prompted. Means, they are told about the incident and see the pics then. Unaided is much lower.

-Let's say 15% out of the 20% unaided. That's still 9 million. Only in North America.

-I know, that sounds bad. But people tend to forget. You know how shitty memory of witnesses is.

Beep, beep, beep.

-What was that?

-My heart monitor. I'm above 100.

-Ok. And that's exactly why I didn't want to have that conversation here. We are going home now. You calm down and we can talk about it later. Just know, Lockhart and Dar have been pulling every single possible and impossible string to protect your personality rights. Airing that video or providing access to it falls under the Terrorism Prevention Act and would be prosecuted accordingly. 

That was quite a lot to take in. But she was probably right. Going home first. Calm down his breathing. Pulling her close and breathe in her scent helped.

-You're ok now?

-I am.

-My new place has underground parking, for what it's worth.

-Carrie, I am fine. I just...hadn't thought about it. Although we spoke about it in therapy. It's just, the clinic was like a bubble. And now I'm suddenly out of that bubble.

-I know. We'll figure it out. Oh, see, that guy? He's just been waiting for his wife, she just came out of the loo.

-I'd still follow your earlier interpretation. He wants to get laid.

-You have a filthy mind.

-Says the person who started it.

She laughed and kissed him again. They'd figure it out. They would. He wasn't alone in this.


	5. Saturday, at Carrie's Place

Saturday - Carrie's Place

They arrived at Carrie's place late morning and as far as he could say, they both were nervous. They had been never together at one of their respective places for romantic purposes. The farest they had get in the past had been a drink after another crap day in Islamabad, in Carrie's appartment. And now he was going to spend the weekend here. Including sharing a bedroom, no, a bed. Better not to think too carefully about it, life's full of surprises.

-You know, the good thing about underground parking is, I can bring my new boyfriend in without all the neighbors gossipping about it.

-Boyfriend, uhm?

-What else would you call it?

-Don't know. I never had a girlfriend.

-Well, for what it's worth, I never had a boyfriend, at least not since I was 16.

-What defines 'boyfriend' when you are 16?

-Uhm, a cute, shy guy who dreamt about getting into my panties while pretending not to think about it at all?

-Oh, that's a fitting description, I guess I am your boyfriend then, indeed.

-Cute and shy, I see. Any other qualities?

-Patty says I'm cute, she likes my dimples.

Carrie had busied herself with making coffee through their exchange and handed him his cup, while they settled at the kitchen counter.

-She is 69, that makes you proud? She has four daughters and you could use filling out a bit, I guess you are adressing her maternal feelings, the son she never had.

-Okay...not a plus in your book, I see. But what else did you say defines a boyfriend? The part about the panties while pretending not to? That applies.

He held her gaze over his coffee mug and she could see the corners of his eyes crinkle from his smile. It was beautiful. And so much fun, that was the old Quinn bantering, from their early days, and yet so much softer, the snarky, sometimes borderline mean edges were gone.

-You blush, now that's what I call cute.

Fucking charmer, he knew exactly what he was doing. Over all those months of recovery she had nearly forgotten about this side of him. Strange, because it had been exactly this what had attracted her in the first place, years ago. His ready wit, his piercing mind, his pun. And, that he was damn attractive surely had helped. And now he stood in her kitchen. 

-I am a good girl, I blush when it's about my panties. So, tell me, when exactly did you think about that?

-Recently? Every now and then. But overall, I am quite experienced in hiding my musings about your panties.

-Is that so?

-It is.

-How come?

-Well, even if we don't discuss my, let's say, romantic feelings for you, which I had for quite a while, and you know that now, musing about your panties was my favourite way to kill time for quite a while quite some time back too. Only, you wouldn't have been willing to engage into a fun discussion about that particular topic with me then. So I had to hide it. Keep it for myself. Just think about it, you, and me hopefully, at night. I am glad these days are over now, by the way.

Suddenly she felt...strange...the way he looked at her... Expectant, wanting, amused, intense, caring...maybe loving? As much as she had wanted this, here, and still wanted it, the hospital had been kind of a safe ground. Whatever they did and said there was bound by certain limitations, of the surroundings and circumstances. And she could always leave, in case it would be too much. Which she never did and never planned, but she knew, that having the possibility had calmed her down more than once, at least in the beginning, when things had been really overwhelming. And right now, she felt it again, being overwhelmed. He was here, just in front of her and he wouldn't, couldn't even, go away for the next 48 hours.

-For someone who just declared himself unable to fuck me you are pretty smug.

He hesitated for a brief moment but didn't stop looking at her.

-And here is me, just about beginning to miss Carrie Mathison's bluntness. Way to kill a mood, Carrie, by the way. But, I'll forgive you once. And, number one - it's 'unfit' not 'unable', that's a difference, I told you before, language is important here, number two - one can always dream, number three - I could come up with a lot of ideas what to do once I am inside your panties to elevate your heartbeat but not mine, I hope you don't mind my bluntness here. And now come here. Come here, I don't bite. And your panties are safe...for now.

She hesitated, but then gave in and when she had rounded the kitchen counter he pulled her close, his mouth now close to her ear.

-Don't push me away because you're suddenly afraid I'm here, in your kitchen, having a charged conversation with you. Which we both enjoyed. I won't run away this time, I'm literally stuck. And I want to stay. This time, we'll figure this out, ok? Like we said earlier, we can take our time. Ok? Just say stop and we'll stop talking about it.

She allowed herself to rest her head against his shoulder and to explore her own thoughts and emotions for a second before she answered. He was right, she had been backing away, involuntarily, but still, because suddenly it had been...not too much...but unknown ground. He knew her well. But, old Quinn would have been through the door by now, face shut, maybe with an acerbic comment while parting. And now, he was still here, offering her comfort and a way out after a thoughtless comment. Honesty.

-It's true. I usually bow out when someone gets to close or to forbidden areas.

He laughed, loud and genuine, the first time she heard that from him actually.

-Interesting choice of words, Carrie, in that context. Forbidden areas...

She hesitated, but had to laugh then herself about the polysemy of her words. He cupped her chin and looked at her.

-We are beyond bowing out I'd say. We hit rock bottom quite a while ago, at least I did, it can only get better, uhm? You found me when I was nothing but a puddle of my own body fluids, and I am glad that I don't remember everything from the following months, but what I remember is embarrassing enough. So, if now you need me to be patient every now and then, that's ok. I can do that.

-You're changed.

-When it came to you, I was always quite patient, I'd say.

-You shot me because I didn't follow your order.

-An exception that proves the rule. But I'd say we are beyond that too, uhm?

-Think so. What do you wanna do now?

-I have no plans.

-Me neither.

-Good. Because, I just changed my mind, I do have plans.

-Mind sharing?

-Not at all. I won a bet yesterday.

-I didn't give him the booze yet.

-But he asked you for it and you agreed, before midnight.

-So, it's pay day?

-If you don't mind.

-Here?

-You are just playing for time....you said, you have a couch?

It was ridiculous, she knew him for years, had spent countless hours at his bedside, had decided matters of life and death for him, and now it was so familiar and yet so strange, new...exciting...after weeks and months of not knowing what the next visit would bring, Quinn was suddenly back to being in charge. Softer, more hesitant, but back. And, their situation was strange too - having confessed to love each other without a date, before kissing (well, there had been that one kiss), so now they practically were having their first date. Only, she knew so much about him now some couples never learn about the respective other one, and on the other hand, it was all so new. And damn exciting.

She moved her chin to indicate the way to the living room, where her couch stood. Not that her appartment was that huge that he couldn't have made a guess. He stretched and then looked down to her, surprised how small she was, now, without shoes, even smaller. He cupped her cheek with one hand and bent down for a very brief, soft kiss.

-Come with me then. 

He hoped she wasn't getting afraid now, again, briefly remembering that fucked up phone call to Missouri. 

Once settled on the couch he pulled her square into his lap. Her head rested on his shoulder and he could smell her shampoo, something citrussy, while he started to stroke her back. It took her a while to relax but as he had said he could be patient. It had taken him two months to hold a spoon, five months to learn to tie his shoes again, seven to write the alphabet, if Carrie needed a couple of minutes to get used to his presence here, he could give her those.

He waited until he felt her shoulders relaxing under his touch. Only then he started to caress her neck with one hand softly, while he kept his other hand at her small back, with firmer pressure. He was relieved when one of her hands came up around his neck, wandered into his hair and pulled him closer. Still, he pulled back a bit and looked at her.

-Ok now?

She nodded. And then they kissed. She couldn't say who started it but suddenly their lips were touching, exploring, uninhibited, no risk to be disturbed or interrupted. Now they finally had the time to just be together. She felt his tongue tentativly at her lips, an elusive touch, he had been much more demanding yesterday. But she had been much less shilly-shally and much more reassuring yesterday. So maybe it was time for a bit encouragement. She felt him inhaling sharply when she slipped the tip of her tongue into his mouth and their kiss deepened.

He hadn't moved his hands away from her nape and small back, a warm, re-assuring pressure. She felt the light tremor his right hand always had, a long time he had been hiding it under his blanket when she had been visiting. And now this hand wandered down her collarbone, softly caressing her skin and then a bit further, carefully cupping her breast through her shirt.

-Just this, ok? Just this, I've been longing for it for so long.

They spent most of the day on the couch, kissing, caressing, snuggling, getting used to each other's presence and preferances. They behaved, mostly, Carrie had to smile at the thought, that her boyfriend when she had been sixteen indeed had gone further than they did now. But, they had time and Quinn knew how to keep a slow burn simmering, that was for sure. Those kisses...Twice, they really had to slow down, the beep, beep, beep of his heart monitor pulling them back into reality like a cold shower.

It was way into the afternoon when they took a break, still laying lazily on the couch, her fingers laced through his.

-I know it might be a bit late to ask but where is Frannie?

-At my sister's. You wanna see her?

-If you're ok with that, I'd like too.

-Of course I'm ok with that. I was thinking, if that's not too much, to get her home for dinner tomorrow. She could then sleep here and we could drop her at daycare Monday morning before we go back.

-Fine for me. But, first, this is Frannie's home, she has every right to be here, don't ask me for having her around. She's your kid and I'd like to get to know her. Because I'd like to stick around in the your life a bit longer. That said, I like being alone with you during our first night.

She felt a warm tingle in her stomache and snuggled closer.

-What do you want to eat tonight? I'm still a pretty lost cause in the kitchen but we could order, indian maybe? Assuming you don't wanna go out and check on the numbers of the poll I told you about?

-Take out would be nice. Can we spare going public another week or two? But, if you want, I could cook tomorrow night.

-Open fire and goat meat stew, uhm?

-No, I'm serious. They made me take cooking in OT. Slicing and dicing and - my favourite - veggie carving, like in those crappy asian restaurants. Good for my fine motor skills and my dexterity. I can do minestrone, bolognese sauce and risotto.

-That sucks, uhm? 

-It does. But it's the only way. I had to choose two out of what they offer.

-What did they offer and what did you choose?

-Promise not to laugh.

-I promise.

-They offer knitting, stitching, painting, music classes, cooking and, and I do that, reluctantly, but I do it, fret work. Three hours a week. - Why don't you say anything? Come on, I know you have to laugh. Fieldstripping guns wasn't on offer.

She wiggled away and propped up on an elbow, looking down to him.

-I'll only say this once because you'll not gonna like the first part and I'm afraid you'll get to cocky over the second part.

-I'm all ears.

-I am fucking proud of you. And whatever man you'll gonna be in the end, I'll love you every step of that way. I already do.

He couldn't answer, but he could pull her down and kiss her. And if she felt one or two tears on his cheeks, she didn't comment on these.

In the end she went to collect the food from the indian restaurant as she had to buy some groceries for Quinn cooking minestrone the next day. Furthermore Quinn had asked her to get him a phone, saying he'd like to be able to call her to say good night. And probably Dar or Lockhart one of these days, she thought, it was about time.

He waited until they sat down for dinner.

-Now, will you tell me how I ended up with Andrew Lockhart being my lawyer? Teamwork, trust and the other t-word?

-Well, teamwork and trust describes it quite well.

-Is that so? I'm genuinly curious.

-You needed a lawyer. There were no relatives we knew of and in the beginning, some tough decisions had to be made. Dar and I weren't always on the same page then and I, you, needed someone who knew the CIA world well enough to be trusted. And someone who could stand his ground against Dar. Lockhart being out of politics and having a law firm made him the only one I could think of. And he was great. Right from the very beginning. He came to Germany, met me there, right after everything went to pieces. He let me have a good cry and then we regrouped our troopes, he said. He made sure there was no other official appointed guardian, named by a court, but-

-Who made all those decisions then?

She took a deep breath.

-I did that. Together with Dar, but only later. After we agreed on some ground rules.

-Which were?

-To keep the machines running for a year. In the beginning, we were...I was tempted to switch them of. But I couldn't. To keep the identy of Peter Quinn. To transport you to the US to a place near me as soon as it was safe to do so. Not to reveal this place to anybody in the agency except me.

-Wait, wait, wait. A year....I get that. Keeping Peter Quinn is nice, but why was that important then?

-Well, first we thought it might be handy to let that identity die, media would report that guy...oh my god, don't make me say it...and then stop digging.

He took her hand and made her look at him.

-It's ok, I am here.

-...but then we couldn't have had those law suits, it is much easier to protect the rights of someone who is alive. And, and Dar was very pissed with me then, I just couldn't.

He didn't let go of her hand.

-Sounds complicated, but I get the picture. And who knows about my whereabouts?

-The first weeks after you were back here? Nobody except me and Lockhart.

-And Dar?

-Not in the beginning.

-Why not? 

-I wasn't sure if I could trust him.

-Who pays the bills?

He couldn't believe that he had never asked those questions before.

-The agency, via Lockhart's law firm. He gets them, checks them, and after he has given affirmation, gets reimbursed by the agency. Dar calls it lex quinn, because there is no precedent.

-And why does Dar now know where I am? I am not interrogating you, I am just very curious.

-He followed me.

Quinn chuckled.

-But I noticed. The first week when you were back to the US. When I noticed, I drove to the clinic where you visited me five years ago. I went into the reception area, straight to the toilet and waited behind the door. Five minutes later he came in and asked at the reception. I came out then and confronted him.

-How did that go?

-Not well.

-Did he threaten you?

-No. He cried.

Quinn nearly swallowed his own tongue while eating a samosa.

-He what?

-He asked me out for dinner for the next day and when we sat there, he cried again.

-And you?

-Cried too.

-Oh my god.

-Yep.

-And then you told him?

-No. Could've been a trick. I told him just a few weeks ago, when you were so much better that you could have fought your ground in an argument with him. But after that dinner, I agreed to give him updates about your recovery. And I promised him to ask you wether he could come and visit you as soon as you are well enough. Which I'm doing now.

-And he agreed with that?

-He had not really a choice. Andrew managed making me your guardian as long as you couldn't take decisions yourself. We should recant that now. But during those months it was solely my responsibility to decide who'd get access to you. Among other decisions. And I figured you didn't want to see him. I hope I was right.

-You were, Carrie, you were. 

-But Dar was supportive. He gave me a job which requires no travel and whenever I need time to be with you, he calls my boss, telling he needs me for an assignment. My team is running bets, that I'm the first female black ops. Or having a thing with Dar.

This made him chuckle again.

-And Saul?

-Is history.

Ok, forbidden ground, from the look at her face.

-And your work in Germany?

-I needed to be here. And I burnt some bridges there, in the end.

Forbidden ground too.

-But...you said media coverage wasn't that huge? How was that?

-In the beginning, it was of course a nightmare. It was breaking news everywhere. But, the cell was made, the attack prevented, you had survived and disappeared, end of story. Lockhart didn't stir the pot for a few weeks, but as soon as attention was elsewhere - Paris, Istanbul, Brussels - he started his raid. And believe me, I know how intimitading he can be. As your identity was still existent, he could build cases to protect your personality rights. Plus terrorism prevention act. And matter of national security. And witness protection. He pulled every possible string. And Dar too. So, it's nearly impossible to get a copy of that video. Legally at least. When they made you watch that video in therapy...

-You know that?!

-I do. I brought the Ipad there with that video, they were only allowed to use it for those sessions, only two docs, they had to sign a hell of a privacy statement and then I took the device with me again. I was always with you, after those sessions.

-I know. Thought it was a coincidence. 

-Mad at me?

-No. No. Of course not. Come here, please.

He indicated her to sit on his lap. When she sat he pulled he in a tight embrace.

-I had no idea. And I will never question what you did, the decisions you made. I am very thankful. And I am awfully sorry for what you had to go through. And know one thing: It doesn't matter how often I complain, how depressed I still might get - you did the right thing and I am glad that I'm still around. And I'll start to take care of my own shit now, you don't need to be responsible for that any longer. - Don't cry, it's ok now, I am fine. 

But there was no way to stop those tears now, after it was finally all told. And he got it, he understood that she had kept it together for so long and now just had to let it out. So he just held her and let her cry it out, still quite suprised by all what he had learnt today. It was really time to open the bubble his little rehab world a bit and to start dealing with the real world again. Carrie as his legal guardian, Christ...sometimes it is just unfuckingbelievable what life throws at you, he thought.

They went to bed soon afterwards. Quinn had anticipated it might feel awkward but it didn't. Carrie had retreated to the bathroom to change, with a modesty he found very cute, and had reappeared in a silky pajama. He didn't feel similar modest, she knew all his clothes including his pj's anyway, as she had bought them. He briefly wondered if she was wearing anything under that pajama top but decided to postpone that question to tomorrow, she looked very tired and his meds were already overdue.

She crawled under the sheets and folded herself into his arm, small and fragile. The day had been long and eventful, but he wouldn't wanna miss this and as far as he was concerned, his meds had to wait a while longer. She was warm and soft, mingled her legs with his and looked at him, open and vulnerable.

-Now you are here.

-Now I am here. Feels good, at least for me. For you too?

-Very good. Would it sound strange if I'd say I missed you although you've never been here before?

-I think I understand what you mean. I'd like to be here more often.

-Good. I was hoping you'd feel that way.

He kissed her, and it was a bit more than just a good night kiss, long, lingering, but very tender. He slipped his hands under her top to caress her back while kissing her, so much for waiting til tomorrow. That sweet moan he got for this...he'd long for that every night in his hospital bed, alone, next week, that was for sure. This was perfect. He swore to himself, he'd never forget this night, hopefully the first of many nights with Carrie falling asleep in his arms.

-Just drift off to sleep now, I'll stay awake just a bit longer to hold you, ok?

He felt her nodding more than he could see it in the twilight of her sleeping room. She wiggled a bit closer and he as wondering if he'd ever been that happy before. Carrie, warm and pliant against his body, after a day which he had enjoyed a lot, even with all the news.

He stretched his arm for his pills, swallowed them dry and nestled back into Carrie's warmth, listening to her breathing while he slowly drifted out, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if my take on protecting his personality rights makes any sense. But I think Lockhart would fight heaven and hell if asigned to his case.
> 
> I know that in days of social media protecting that video from being aired might be difficult, but it's the damn CIA, so they can come up with something. At least here in this AU.


	6. Late At Night

Quinn woke up in the middle of the night, the beeping of his monitor had awaken him. Probably a bad dream. But one of those he couldn't remember. These were the better ones. The worse ones were those he could remember, where he was reliving the whole encounter again and again. He just needed to breathe. In and out, slow down, in and out. After a minute, the beeping stopped. 

Since they had made him see the video he only dreamt what one could see in that recording, prior to that his mind had come up with thousands of own versions of that torture. Some even worse than the actual incident. Yes, that was possible.

Sometimes he dreamt of Carrie being there on the other side of the glass. They said that it was highly unlikely, kind of impossible, that he actually had been concious, seeing her. That his mind was creating it out of what had been told to him afterwards. But he knew better. He remembered, and he had no word for it, it hadn't been thinking or perceiving or seeing or any of these, but he remembered sensing she was there. 

He had to get up and use his inhaler, his lungs were rattling. And maybe some painkillers, he had skipped the afternoon dose because they dulled everything a bit, and he hadn't wanted that for yesterday. But now he really needed them. The annoying effects would probably wear off till the morning.

Carrie was still curled up on his left side, he carefully removed his arm from under her ripcage and freed his legs from hers.

-You ok?

-Yeah, all's fine, go back to sleep.

He placed a soft kiss on her shoulder and waited two minutes for her to go back to sleep again.

It took him a moment to sort his legs and get his nerves to transmitter the right signal - crawling out of the bed, left leg, right leg. Once he was standing it was usually easier. In the clinic, he was not supposed to get up at night alone, but sure as fuck he wouldn't wake Carrie just to witness his bathroom break and med intake. He just had to take it slow. Bathroom first. Most difficult part there was usually switching the water on, but Carrie had a faucet he could open and close by using his elbow. It looked new and shiny, probably a quick adjustment to his needs. She hadn't commented on it and he wouldn't either. He checked the shower. Yep, a faucet with fixed temperature and just a push button to make the water running. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. Touched, that she had made preparations for him being around more often and - even more important -independently, but on the other hand, he still planned to get better and not to need those adjustments forever. And, she seemed to know a lot more about his current inabilities as he had told her. 

He slowly shuffled to the kitchen, founding a glass with water and one with orange juice on the counter, his meds neatly strung next to these, all vials open, a small beaming nightlight next to the arrangement. Well, she clearly knew her game.

He sat on one of the barstools at the kitchen counter, choosing the right pills and washing them down with a sip of orange juice. Without pulp. Fuck, even that. He remembered the discussion they had had one day in the Langley canteen about the benefits of pulp, which she preferred and he detested.

He had hoped to keep some of his current unabilities for himself, but apparently she was all informed, or had made her homework. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. But what had he been thinking? His stay in the clinic wouldn't be forever now, although it sometimes felt so, they had said about another three to four months. And spending weekends outside was not a intended as romantic getaway but as first step to prepare living outside. Learning about the limitations and how to overcome them or how to live with them. If he wanted Carrie to be a part of his life, she needed to know. He did not wish to be dead anymore. That had stopped a while ago, about March maybe. But til today he hadn't thought about what his life would be, once allowed to leave the clinic. Strange. 

He had thought about life in general, like not being able to work at the agency anymore, not being able to hold and use a gun anymore or the question whether he'd ever be able to drive a car again. But, not day to day-life, starting with the question, where he would live and who would open his orange juice, maybe he needed to start to think about that as well. 

He reached for the glass to have another sip and then it happened. They had told him it was common for parkinson patients. Just, he was no parkinson patient. Nobody knew if it was temporary or permanently, because there was no other person alive who had been exposed to Sarin gas as long as he had. He was his own fucking clinical trial. 

It was called freezing or motor block, sudden blocks of movement. Could be seconds, or minutes. Worst up to today had been seven minutes. They said the harder he tried to overcome it the worse it gets, but that was easy to say when it wasn't your own body. He was told to shift his mind elsewhere or to hum a song and then try to move with the rhythm, again, easy to say if it's not your body. If it happened in the clinic a nurse would help him to get out of the episode by touching him, helping his brain to remember the movements. But...no nurse in sight. This was exactly the reason why he wasn't allowed to get up alone at night. 

But he wouldn't call for Carrie now, he just would sit it out. A barstool was no good place to sit it out, he felt his left leg - that one was worse - already cramping but it was just a question of focus and concentration.

And then he saw a small silhouette moving into the kitchen, which was dark except of the little night light. Minnie Mouse, he just noticed, probably borrowed from Frannie. Carrie said nothing, just stepped behind him and wound her arms around him. Her right arm wandered down his arm, a caressing movement, and her hand closed around his, which was still cramped around the glass. He felt his muscles loosing again. She had broken the blockade.

-Bad dream? I missed you.

-Yeah. And thirsty.

-Wanna tell me about it?

-Nothing you don't know. You saw the video. You found me.

-You know, when it was pretty bad, for me last autumn, my shrink told me to remember a happy place, something to focus on when I needed to. 

-What was it? What did you choose?

-The moment when you moved. I found you and thought you were dead and then you moved. I still like telling myself you did it for me. Because you saw me. I know that's not possible but I like to think that. And I kept telling myself, if you can return from death, for me, I can keep my shit together, too. 

-I knew you were there. On the other side of the glass. 

They were both silent for a while, her small frame still pressed against his back, her hand still around his.

-You know, when you said I could fall asleep in you arms?

-Hm.

-Could we do that again? Now? I'd really like that.

Maybe he wouldn't even need to tell her about what he needed. Maybe she already knew. Maybe there was a way to do this.

-Mee too.

-Give me a minute, ok?

He saw her disappearing to the bathroom, doubting she needed to use it, probably she just wanted to give him time to make his way back to bed. Maybe he should tell her, it was okay, he would and should get used to her seeing his weaknesses. But, seeing how much she cared was in a way good too.

She climbed the bed and wrapped herself around him, kissing him, softly first, then, when his arms went around her back, deeper. He parted her lips with his tongue and, when she responded in the same way, let his hand wander under her shirt. He knew this couldn't go further but he needed at least this now. Not only being weak but giving her something, too. Just a bit. He pushed her softly away, on her back, and bent over her to kiss her. His hand, so reluctant when it had been the glass with the juice, was now willing to cooperate and to caress her belly and then upwards, a bit clumsy maybe, but more or less softly closing around her right breast. If he concentrated really hard, maybe he could...It worked, his thumb was brushing over her nipple, which got hard in response. Again. She arched her back and moaned against his mouth. He concentrated and did it once more.

-If you don't stop that now, I am gonna rip that monitor off you and throw it out of the window.

-I'd like that.

-Still a bad idea, I guess.

-I know. But I'll get better. I'll try harder now, ok?

-Don't you ever think, it's not enough, do you? This is perfect. Leave that hand there, now, when I go to sleep, will you?

This, he could do.

She turned on her side and wiggled her butt into his crotch. Minx.


	7. Sunday, Daytime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised happy fluff. Here we go.

When Quinn woke up again, the room was bright from sunlight and he smelled coffee and something else, pancakes probably. And music, jazz, of course. And he heard Carrie cursing, something like 'little motherfucker, don't fucking burn' - pancakes, yes. He stretched carefully, checking the painlevel, which was surprisingly tolerable.

It was comfortable, here in Carrie's bed. He briefly considered if he ever had experienced such a scene before, Sunday morning, sleeping in, someone, no, the one special person he had, making breakfast for him, just a lazy sunday ahead of them, probably with a bit more snuggling later. As far as he was concerned a lot more of that, he had enjoyed that part of the Saturday a lot. He briefly chuckled to himself. At least one part of his body still responded in an appropriate way. Not helpful right now but promising for the weekends ahead of them. 

Not for the first time within the last 24 hours he thought it could be much worse. Whereas he wouldn't wanna relive any day of therapy of the last eleven months, he knew that in a way he had been lucky. He had come out of the coma and was still himself. He knew who he was. He knew who she was. He knew what he felt for her. He wasn't particularly proud of his past, fuck, no, and if he had had a chance for pick and choose, there were a bunch of memories he'd like to erase. But, there was no pick and choose, either one had an autobiographic memory or one lost it. And loosing it and looking at the blonde woman at his bedside without knowing who she was? He didn't dare to think about it. He had to deal with a lot of physical inabilities but as far as he could tell his mind had stayed the same. He had been able to think right from the beginning. Just making his body transfer thinking into speech or movement had been difficult. But, from the beginning, when the fog lifted for seconds, he had known who Carrie was. She had always been there, whenever he had opened an eye or two, she had been there.

This was as far as he came with his musings when she reappeared in the bedroom with a tray.

-Hey sleepy head, good morning.

-Good morning yourself. Breakfast in bed, this is nice. 

She was still in her pajama, which he liked, not only for equilibrium, because he didn't intend to get up and dress any time soon and now it seemed like he didn't have to, but also because she looked very cute in her jim-jams, now in the light of the day. And he liked that she felt comfortable enough to subtly suggest a morning in bed, by climbing back into the said bed with the breakfast tray now.

-Did you sleep better afterwards?

-I did. Put that away for a second, will you?

She smiled, put the tray to her side and turned back to him to kiss him.

-Just for the records: Nobody ever got breakfast before. And you won't get that every weekend.

-So I'm allowed to come back?

She looked at him, scrutinizing.

-I didn't spend months in hospitals to miss the good parts now.

-Thanks, I love you, too. And, you clearly earned some fun as reward now.

-Good. Now, eat. Coffee's getting cold. Pancakes is the only recipe I managed to learn in Germany. But they have them for lunch or dinner not for breakfast. These are with apples and cinnamon.

-I know. Jonas did the cooking.

He knew he was pushing his luck here. But she had to know.

-How long have you been observing us?

-A while. Before I found your name in the box. I...I wanted to know if you are doing good. And you seemed to be happy, so I didn't make myself seen.

-What else? Just Jonas cooking or other stuff too? You are an ass, by the way, for observing me without letting me know you were alive.

-In Berlin, just Jonas cooking and you driving Frannie to daycare. And you going to work. And maybe Frannie's birthday.

-And elsewhere?

Of course, Carrie knew this game as good as he did.

-In that house in the woods, I might have overheard the words 'lousy lay'.

-This is mean, Jonas doesn't deserve this. 

-I couldn't know what you were going to say to him.

-True. 

He couldn't help it. It was childish, but...

-Was he a lousy lay?

She took a piece of pancake and stuffed it in his mouth.

-I am so not going to answer this. This is ridiculous, adolescent, childish behaviour. And, you still have to prove that you are not a lousy lay...

-True. But I am no lousy lay, I'll be an excellent lay. And least I think, I remember how to do it. Just wait.

-Anticipation is half the fun?

-Exactly. Can I have more of that pancake? It's good.

-In a minute. I'm not done here.

-I like cheerful walks down the memory lane. But I'm hungry.

-Just one more sentence, well, two. Berlin was sick shit. You could have just rang the door bell and talked to me.

-It may sound strange. But it didn't occur to me then. And, probably you'd still be making pancakes for Jonas then and not for me. And now give me that pancake. 

There wasn't much more to say to this. That was what his depressed, PTSD-ridden self had come up with, for whateever fucked up reasons, back there last summer. And all those 'if only' did not help anybody, didn't change anything.

-For what it's worth it, I like making pancakes for you.

And that was all. He had expected a classic Carrie anger blow but felt relieved how easy she had left him of the hook.

After breakfast they took turns under the shower. She went first and he was very tempted to just go in and join her but that would be a pretty bold move. And as she hadn't invited him he decided not to, at least not today. But he made a mental note to himself to get back to it, in a couple of weeks. Being with Carrie so close somehow had kick started a lot of...thoughts...

He used the time to get his meds and to consider how he could stop her from doing anything else than snuggling in bed. But, when she reappeared from the bathroom, fresh out of the shower, she was wearing yogapants and a top, disappeared into the kitchen to brew more coffee and said, she'd meet him in bed in a few, wether he needed anything else from the kitchen.

That was promising. He would go for boxer shorts and shirt. Strange, to be so familiar with someone...and yet so...exciting and new. But - nice outfit for the second date, he chuckled to himself. And once in the shower, where he found an open bottle of shampoo and a towel neatly draped within reach, he had to admit that this push button was quite handy. He even made six sets of hand exercise voluntarily, to make it up for not having to turn the water on and off.

When he came back to Carrie's bedroom, he found her sitting in bed, propped up against a cushion, waiting for him. As soon as he was back in bed she leant into him, head at his shoulder, arm around his waist.

-I could get used to weekends in bed with you.

-No complaints from my side. But I guess at some point, we will have to get up and get Frannie. What time will you get her?

-She's swimming with her cousins today. Around five, I said to Maggie.

That was still plenty of time.

-So, when Frannie's here, what do you want me to do? Or not to do? Am I just a friend or can she see you are special to me?

-I'm special to you?

She smiled a gorgeous smile.

-You are. But that's not what I asked.

-She is four now. She knows you were in hospital a long time, still are. And she knows I care a lot for you. So yes, she can see I am special to you, in an age-appropriate way. I will tell that you sleep with me in my bed so she knows in case she comes over at night.

Huh, he hadn't thought of this. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

-Does she like to play with dolls?

-She is a four year old girl, of course she likes to play with dolls. She'll probably introduce you to her babies tonight. 

He suddenly felt very awkward.

-Good. I can do that. I...I made a wooden doll's bed for her in my OT class. I had to choose a project and...

He felt her arm tighten around his waist.

-She'll like that a lot.

They were silent for a couple of seconds, both unspoken remembering the video in Berlin. Carrie broke the silence.

-Not that I like to think about it, but what time to you need to be back tomorrow? Usually I drop Frannie at daycare at 8, and it's about two hours to drive.

-I have no appointments before noon, no rush.

-I have the day off, I could stay a bit and...

-No. You don't need to.

No, he couldn't let this happen.

-I know about the scan. Why didn't you tell me?

-Who told you?

-Jim.

-I see. He shouldn't have done that. I didn't tell you because I don't need you to be there. 

-Why not? Those are usually...not so good days. Let me be there, help you. You don't need to do this alone.

-No, Carrie, I can't have that, that I can't. I told you, I'm aware what my chances are. I will never get close to being the man I was. And I'm beginning to understand that this actually might be a way, the way, out. But I am just about to figure out what man I could be. And I'm not at all close to being that man. And I can't have you with me there. I just learnt to cope certain things. I just learnt that sardonic irony, sometimes even humour, is better than self-loath. And today, here, I keep it together for you. And myself. Because I want us to have a good time. And it works. It is no play. It works. But I can't do this and have you see me monday noon through the procedure.

-It's ok, Quinn, I get it. I just thought, you'd might want me to be there, afterwards. I did it in the past.

-I know. And it still means a lot that you offer to be there. But this time, no.

-Ok. But I still can see you on Wednesday?

He pulled her closer.

-I'd like that very much. No, Carrie, no tears. No, this is not about you. It's about me. I'm not pushing you away. 

-Somehow feels like that.

-I'm sorry. That's not what I want. But, this, here, I can't do that with you being my nurse the next day. I know you were there all the way. I wouldn't be here anymore, if you hadn't been there all the way. But, it's hard enough the way it is, and if you want me to be...your boyfriend...certain things can't happen. I became humble, I know my badass days are over and who knows for what it's worth. But humble or not, being here, with you, finally, after all those years, sleeping in your bed, and not even being allowed to do what I might want to do, having to have this conversation with you yesterday about not being allowed to have sex before I even had figured out whether you want sex with me...having to talk so much about something which should just happen when we are ready for it...shit, Carrie, I lost my point...

-But I got you.

-Good.

-Would you want that?

-What? Having to talk less? Yeah, please.

-No. Having sex, with me?

-Jesus, Carrie, how could I not? 

-You said yesterday, you had other ideas...

-Do I like that mischievous smile?

-I hope so. We could just try what works...without sending you over the forbidden hundred...put that display device here...and then we'll try how far we can go...oh, alone mentioning it was enough for a plus of twenty...that's going to be fun...

And she was right. It was...fun...among other things, it was fun, frustrating too, but so good. Not to focus on what's not gonna happen but on what actually was happening, here and now.

Couple hours later they knew: Firm touch was better than too delicate caresses. So, headmassage, either way, good. Foot massage, easy too. Carrie caressing his abdomen and chest, borderline risky. Quinn massaging Carrie's shoulders, as long as Carrie was still wearing her top, no problem. When that was gone, and he had that lovely view from over her shoulder, while doing so - beep, beep, beep. 

Actually, most things got a bit difficult when that top was gone. But, closing his eyes, holding Carrie in his arms, feeling the softness of her breasts against his chest, while stroking her back, that worked. Pulling her a bit closer, still ok, a mere 83. Allowing his hands to wander a bit further south, exploring the perfect roundness of her butt, while fieldstripping his rifle in his mind, just okay, forgetting about the rifle, pulling her closer, while she kissed him and moaned his name, definetly a no go-area.

Reverse roles, Carrie caressing his back, letting her hands wander down to his buttocks, kneeding with firm pressure, as long he was using all his will power he managed to keep it just under 95. But when she ground her hips against his loins and deepened that kiss at the same time...needless to say...beep, beep, beep...

He was just about to suggest it didn't matter, at least he'd die happy but then decided against it, fearing she wouldn't get the joke in that, so he pulled back a bit. One hand around her breast, laying completely still, was okay, he was very proud on his self-control here. Kissing the other breast brought him close to 90, still some room for improvement though, sucking and licking her nipple plus the sounds she made then, yeah, well...better to stop right away...because beep, beep, beep...

Fondling her breasts while kissing her neck, hah, all cool with him, but he felt her carotid artery under his mouth and if her heartrate were the one to be monitored, she'd be fucked, way over hundred.

Grazing teeth and a soothing tongue at his nipples, surprisingly enough not too risky. Cutting close, of course, but still ok. But Carrie then getting frisky, one hand trailing cheekily further south, to the fabric covering forbidden areas, what the fuck was she expecting...beep, beep, beep...

-You minx. I'll get better and the day will come when I...

-What?

-That's for me to know and for you to find out. You know what they say: Anticipation is half the fun.

-Well, the advantage of powerful knowledge is clearly on my side here, I could draw a map now, marking what you find exciting... or more exciting...or unbearable...

-Oh, I don't mind spending more Sundays with those...discovery journeys...but your panties are safe...for now. I have to admit that there is no way to get into them and to stay below fucking hundred while doing so. So I declare defeat in round one.

They had been in bed for almost all day, indulging and savouring being together, exploring and pleasing each other and feeling unhindered by the disturbing presence of medical personnel for the first time. It had been so good. Frustrating, funny, arousing and so good.

-What will you tell your teenage doctor when he'll check the recordings of that thingie on Monday?

-Dunno. Maybe that you took me on a bike ride. Uphill and downhill.

His index finger followed the curve of her breast towards her nipple and went down to her ripcage on the other side where he caressed her side. She felt his arm trembling, it had been kind of a long day with a lot of 'exercise'.

-And I'll tell them I've been working on dexterity and fine motor skills and have been very patient through my exercises.

-Still wanna cook tonight or are you too tired?

-No, I'll do that. And I guess, you should go and get Frannie soon. But I'm afraid I'll be really done in after cooking and dinner. But consider me even more motivated to work on getting better.

-Wanna come here again, next week?

-If you want that.

-I asked what you want.

-I'd like that a lot. But...my long term memory is still affected, so I am afraid we'll need to do all that exploring again.

Carrie wound her arms around him.

-That was so...good, wasn't it? Now, kiss me once more, before I go get Frannie. And you'll prove the success of OT by cooking minestrone soup.

-If you don't like it I'll change to knitting...or have to do even more fretwork...

He was right. Humour helped. A lot.

 


	8. Sunday Evening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After some us confessed a weak spot for domestic scenes...here we go...

The evening had been good, better than he ever had expected. He had been wondering how it would be to meet Frannie. She was substantial to Carrie's life, the centre of her universe and any kind of future would always include that little girl with a face like Raphael's cherubs at the foot of the Sistine Madonna. Astrid had taken him once to Dresden to see the Gemäldegalerie and rebuilt Frauenkirche.

It had taken him nearly 90 minutes to cut all the veggies for the soup and his hand had been really in a bad shape afterwards, but, the minute Carrie and Frannie came back, the soup was simmering on the stove.

Carrie had introduced him to Frannie who hid shyly behind her mum's legs. Carrie had suggested a round of memory before dinner and even without sarin gas there is no way known to man kind how an adult can win against a four year old when playing memory. Frannie had ended up with 32 cards (she said 'twothirty') whereas he and Carrie had had four each, and he had even believed Carrie hadn't been cheating for his sake.

The soup had turned out to be ok. Good, Carrie had said. Frannie had two bowls, and has ridiculous it was, this had made him happy. The whole scene had been surreal, the three of them having dinner, talking about Frannie's weekend with her cousins. 

After dinner Carrie had sent Frannie to her room to change and busied herself in the kitchen, doing the dishes. He had hesitantly followed Frannie, after a reassuring squeeze from Carrie, and had given her the doll's bed. She had not only liked it but invited him to put her dolls to bed. There had been a lot of talking about who sleeps where, those dolls had complex personalities, he had thought. And right in the midst of it she had looked at him, like a miniature version of Carrie, even with a little frown.

-You sleep in my mum's bed.

-Uhm, yes, I do.

-I sleep there sometimes too. When I had a bad dream or don't want to be alone in the dark.

That were plausible reasons, he thought, they weren't so different after all, he and that little girl.

-Why do you sleep in my mum's bed?

He knew a Mathison when he saw one, and her serious bluntness was cute in a way he had never experienced before. 

-I like your mum a lot. I like to be near her. She makes my bad dreams go away.

-Yeah, mine too. She's good at that.

-She really is.

-She said I can still come when you are there.

There we go, he thought, amused.

-Of course you can. She's your mum.

-Are you sad that you have to go back to hospital and sleep alone?

-Yes, I am. It's much nicer here, with the two of you.

-Mum can give you extra snuggles to take with you. She does it before I sleep over with aunt Maggie. I can ask her to give you some. It really works.

-Uhm, I...I'll ask her myself. But that's a great idea.

-And mum said it won't be long now. First you'll be here only weekends, but long before christmas you'll be home always. Then you don't need to sleep alone anymore. So don't be sad, it's gonna be ok. 

He hadn't been sad, not at all. He had been...overwhelmed. First, this little girl had been trying to console him, probably mimicking what Carrie usually said to her. She had raised a caring, tender-hearted little personality and that had filled him with joy. Second, apparently Carrie had more plans than he knew about for when he was released from the hospital and this little lady was on board with it. Home, always, hat's what she had saud. They had never spoken about it and he had never dared to raise the topic where and how he would live, had been hoping to find a place very near to her so that he could walk over, be with her often, help with Frannie, he would have plenty of time then, and then maybe, eventually, when she would be ready for that step...

It had been bedtime for Frannie soon afterwards, and honestly, he had been longing for bedtime for himself too. The day had been great, in all kind of ways, but long and the tremor in his right arm really had been and still was bad and his whole body was aching. He didn't want to take his nighttime meds now, but at least one of the painkillers was much needed now.

Carrie came into the kitchen when he swallowed his pills, and embraced him from behind.

-You ok?

-Kind of.

-Which means 'no' in your language. Long day, uhm?

-I should manage by now.

She was wise enough to let it go.

-Why didn't you take one of those little white ones? They always helped with your tremor and cramps in hospital. What were they called again? Tetrawhatever?

-Tetrazepam. It's the one which makes me so tired. It's a muscle relaxant, that's why it reduces the tremor and cramps so fast. But it knocks me out, still. Which is in a way a good sign, indicating I still respond to that dose of one pill.

-Would a massage help too?

-Maybe, don't know. It's not that I'd ask the nurse to give me one.

Despite the pain he still had to chuckle.

-Let's go to bed and give it a try, if not, you can still take that pill.

She helped him through the hallway, softly closing Frannie's door when they passed it.

-That went well, didn't it?

-She's a cute kid, she reminds me of you. Typical Carrie-bluntness.

-Oh...what did she say?

-We spoke about why we like sleeping next to you.

-Uhm, not much similarities in the reasons I guess.

-You're wrong. A lot mutual understanding. We like to be near you and you make bad dreams go away.

-I see. What else did she tell you?

-I got lectured about her dolls' sleeping preferances.

-Oh, that topic is huge. Ok for you, or...too domestic?

-I've come to the conclusion, here, these days, I like domestic. So, no, not too much. I liked it.

They had arrived in the bedroom and she helped him to sit down and get his legs up on the mattrass.

-Can you give me a minute until the painkillers kick in?

-Sure.

She was about to get up and leave, respecting his need for privacy but he called her back. He had to get used to her witnessing his everpresent weaknesses if he really wanted to be part of this.

-Mind staying? I just need to lie still for a while. I'd like you to be here. Go on this side, that arms better.

She laid down next to him and he managed to pull her close so she was pressed against his side while they waited for the pills to do their magic.

Slowly he felt the pain tapering off.

-I'm better now.

-I know. Can see it from your face. Those lines here get really deep when you are in pain.

-Is that you telling me I'm getting old?

-No, that's me having a long history of observing you. 

She brought herself up to a seated position and took his hand into hers, starting to kneed, stretch and massage his fingers. It felt good. Both felt good: The physical sensation as well as it was her doing this, taking care of him.

She worked her way up on his arm and then did the other arm and hand. His right hand was always worse, which made sense, he was using it much more. She granted that hand a lot of attention, thoroughly kneading his palm with her thumb and knuckles, then turning to his fingers, kneading, rolling and stretching them with her thumb on one side and index and middle finger on the other side. 

At one point she chuckled and he opened one eye asking what was funny.

-Oh, I was just thinking maybe we should keep that monitoring thingie. It's kind of rewarding to see that my massage has an effect, your heartrate is decreasing since I started.

-You're too good at this.

-Legs too?

How could he say no to having Carrie's hands all over his body? And, she was really good at this. Long fingers with surprisingly firm pressure working his muscles, digging into tensed up parts and kneading the hardenings, cramps and tension out. Only, this time, his heart beat wasn't decreasing, at least not when she was taking care of his thighs. She noticed, of course she did, she didn't even need to look at the heart monitor for it, there was other...solid evidence.

-You're feeling better, I see.

-Much better. Stop giggling, come here.

He couldn't do much about it, but it was not that he felt embarrassed, not at all. But he could pull her on top of him and press her close. She responded by slowly tilting her hips back and forth. Each of those movements sent a wave of pleasure up his spine. And as far as those soft moans told him she wasn't unaffected by it at all, quite the opposite, either. He searched her mouth to kiss her, frantically, he suddenly wanted her so badly, to show her how much she meant to him, how much he loved her, this was torture and he couldn't wait now to just be with her, in her, he just had to. He shoved his hands under the waistband of her pants, the stretchy fabric wasn't really an obstacle, down to the perfect soft roundness of her butt, pulling her closer, kissing her deeper, she moaned against his mouth, responded his kiss with grazing teeth at his lips, ground herself into him, his hands on their way further down, searching the hem of her panties, that wetness, oh my god, he thought, it shouldn't happen like this, with such urgency, it's gonna be far too quick, but I just can't stop this now, I need this...just...her...now...trying to get under the hem with one finger...

Beep, beep, beep, beep.

Apparently she could stop. She moved back immediatly, looking disheveled, swollen lips, a hickey at her throat, pupils dilated, breathing heavily. But determined.

-No, Quinn, no. We knew we shouldn't and we should stop, right away.

-You already stopped. Which is a shame. Come back.

-No.

-Carrie...

-No. We really have to get better at this.

-We just need a bit more practise.

-What? No, I mean at avoiding this.

-As far as I'm concerned, I don't want to avoid this, quite the opposite.

Finally, that stern look left her face and she smiled and laid down again, but next to him. At least she was very close and wound her arm around his chest.

-It's hard.

-It is.

He laughed softly and turned himself on his side to grab her and pull her close, rocking his hip deliberately against her crotch to underline his predication.

-You are purposely misunderstanding me. That's not what I meant.

-I know. But you still like it. And your panties were soaking wet. Just saying, s-o-a-k-i-n-g wet. You want it as bad as I do. And I told you before, how can one deal with it, if it's not with humour?

She kissed him softly, carefully, as not to ignite the next aroused outburst.

-You are still so smug. And you're right, it is hard, for me too. And I want you to make love with me, more than nearly anything. But even more I want you to stay healthy and alive.

-Do you want me to make love to you or do you want me to fuck you? Just curious, so I know for what I have to work out for...

She kissed him again, a bit less restrained.

-Maybe both? And now let's get ready to sleep, Frannie will be up by six sharp. Need that pill now?

No, right now, he didn't need it. It was worth a try to make a night without it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up tomorrow, title will be The Smothering Confession...


	9. Sunday Night or The Smothering Confession

They went to bed soon afterwards, well, back to bed. She laid curled up in his arm, and he just had kissed her very carefully good night, wondering how lonely he'd feel the next night.

It was funny, how the 'not having sex with her' could be so good. He had waited so long for it, or no, in the first years he hadn't even waited for it, just been longing for it, but never expected it actually to happen, that what they had now, waiting for it together, was more than he ever had expected to happen. Just two days ago he hadn't been sure what to expect out of these days at all, all had seemed so fragile, and now...it was not about 'if' she wanted to be with him but only 'when'. And the things they actually had done, two days of exploring and getting closer, had been...promising at the very least. It felt good to be with her. To love her. And to be loved. He really believed her that now. Carrie loved him.

From nearly vegetable to Carrie Mathison's heart and bed in less than a year, that was a lot to be happy and satisfied about.

But the weekend had been remarkable in other ways too. There was Frannie, first of all, that indeed had been a good start, and, and he still wasn't sure how he felt about that, Andrew Lockhart being his lawyer. Probably he should give him a call and ask for a meeting. And Dar...maybe as well. But there was still so much he didn't know, didn't remember. He had never asked her about a lot of details of the weeks of his coma, always had thought finding him in that chamber must have been traumatic for her. But she had said that this moment hadn't been the worst.

-Which moment was the worst?

She knew what he was asking for, but stayed silent, fearing that conversation.

-You said, finding me was not the worst moment.

-Because you had the strength to move, to show me you are alive. The rest of it was...

He pulled her closer.

-I know. 

-Worst came later. After your surgery. The first days of your coma.

He never mentioned the seizure. But always said he had done the same, they had to try to wake him up. But she was pretty sure he hadn't, not if had been her, he'd probably ripped Saul's skin off alive for even suggesting it. And that's what she should have done too. 

Lockhart was still having one lawsuit in Germany against the doctor for malpractise, for agreeing and performing the procedure. But that was another story. And maybe it was time to tell the rest of the story.

-They told me, you had severe brain damage, were minimally concious.

-I know.

-And Dar gave me your letter, saying this was your worst nightmare.

-Well, educated guess...who would long for that...

-Let me tell it all, before you judge, okay? I came to see you again, after I had read the letter. I thought Dar had been right. I thought the letter proved it. All those lines about belonging to darkness.

-Pretty depressed asshole I was.

-Don't interrupt. So I thought I always let you down. It was never about your needs. In Berlin, you were willing to die for me. Ironically, I needed Jonas to tell me that. I took the letter as written statement of your want to die. But I didn't consider right away that it was nearly three years old. But, I walked into your room and was willing to give you what I thought you asked for. I had not really any idea how, there was no plug to pull, no ventilator to switch off. So I was considering the next best thing.

She was crying now. But he was still holding her in his arm and his heartbeat was still remarkably fine.

-Which was?

-Smothering you with a pillow.

He chuckled. HE CHUCKLED.

-Why didn't you?

-I couldn't. And before you thank me, hear it all. It was for selfish reasons, again, at least part of it. I suddenly realized, I still couldn't loose you. Not instantly, not as long as I still had the slightest hope left. And again your letter. The part about the beacon, stearing me clear of rocks. After all you sacrificed in Berlin, for me, I suddenly felt like you were yelling at me, how I could fucking dare to end up prosecuted for homicide or at least assisted suicide instead of being with Frannie.

-Exactly that's what I would've said. Smothering with a pillow, fuck, Carrie...

-I know, I know, and I completly get, if you...

-Will you please hear me out?

-Quinn, please, I...

-Hear me out. I am not saying I am not glad you obviously didn't do it. I'm very glad. But I'm glad you considered it. Because, if things had stayed like this...but I always pictured myself dying on a mission, maybe while doing something good, or at least to get shot...not smothered...what happened next?

-I climbed your bed and lay next to you.

-You what?

-I am sorry. I know it was overstepping. But I needed to feel you breathing. You were so weak. Your breathing was so shallow. Nearly not to see, your chest was barely moving. So I thought, if you have a miracle recovery, you can slap my face and kick me out of your bed. At least you had been awake then. Or you wouldn't notice anyway.

-Unfortunately I didn't. Which is a pity, given how long I had been hoping for this. Did I at least stir a bit?

-Fuck, Quinn, that was no fucking fairy tale, where the prince kisses the princess and they are happily ever after. And it was reversed roles anyway. You lay there like a marble statue, bathing in rays of sunlight, filtering in through the window blinds. Like you were testing me, nyark, nyark, now you are all alone, what's your next move?

-Sounds like you were pretty pissed.

-I was. With myself, with Saul, with you, with the fucking whole world we created. And so sad. And so alone. I cried your hospital gown wet. The nurse was nice enough not to comment when she checked on you and had to change it. I laid next to you and thought. Hussein had said you had fought for your life. And I then told you, I'd get you a second opinion consult. That I needed you to fight once more. And a lawyer. And I promised you, if there was really no chance, I'd end it for you. That was before we learnt through the consulting specialists about your chances and Dar and I agreed on a year. That night, I asked you for two weeks, for me to get other doctors to evaluate your scans and files. I promised you to kill you if there really was no chance. And I would have kept my promise, if really necessary.

-I know. And I'm grateful. And so sorry. And know, if worst came to worst, I'd do the same for you. But I can't say, I am not glad for you stepping back and re-evaluating. I can say that only now. It's not that I had not considered ending it myself, numerous times until winter. Wouldn't have been too hard to accomplish anyway.

-Why didn't you?

Somehow it was possible to talk about all this, now, at home, in bed, outside the hospital.

-You. You still came. Hold my hand and sat there, not requesting anything. Tired, exhausted, driving four hours to see me for an hour. And if I had done it, one day you would have entered an empty room. And I couldn't do that to you. So I kept telling myself, just another day, until your next visit. And then it was another day, because you promised to be back. And that's how it went. And slowly I felt better, got better. Did you ever lay in my bed again in those weeks?

-Quite often. I learnt the pattern of the nurses quickly. They checked on you every two hours. In the beginning I had no bed in your room and the chair was fucking uncomfortable. So after I had spent the first night on the floor-

-Carrie...

-...I slept in your bed for two hours, got up a couple of minutes before check up time, and then laid down again with you.

-Did you get a bed later?

-I did, when Lockhart came into picture.

-How did that go?

-I called him after that first night. And my sister, to find me a specialist for second opinion. Andrew flew over right the next day. He arrived at the hospital at night. He found my little camp on the floor behind the armchair and saw my shape still visible on where I laid on your blanket. And was the kindest person one can imagine. He hugged me and said, cry it out, just let it fucking out, yell at me, cry, hit me, whatever you need, just let it out, and then we'll regroup.

-And that's what you did?

-I had a good cry, yes. And then Lockhart switched into badass mode. That was Senator Lockhart grilling me during my hearing. It was painful even to watch. I couldn't believe that the same man had just hold me during my crying. Just, this time it wasn't me getting grilled...'Peter Quinn is not dying on my watch. This man is a hero. Not only for what he suffered here. Remember the embassy attack in Islamabad 2014? He saved dozens of lifes that day. The ambassador's life, my life...single-handedly, with one weapon and no support. This man is a fucking hero and you roll him here into the last available chamber at the end of the floor of the dying creatures. How the fucking fuck dare you? Why do I come here and find him in a fucking room without proper post op care? There isn't even a fucking oxygen bottle in that room. Better change that quick. And talking about adjustments: This woman here spared the city of Berlin its very own 9/11. And you don't even offer her a fucking guerney to lay down and take a break. And I want a second opinion consult by Professor Reichenstein from Charité today. Make it happen, I don't fucking care how. And you'll send those scans and files afterwards to the US, we'll name a specialist for second opinion there as well. And then we'll fucking re-evaluate. And then we do this again in 10 days. And again in 10 days.' And when the doctor came up with, the CIA gave orders...

-Wait, let me guess: Then tell the fucking CIA and its representatives to go fuck themselves.

-Exactly. He didn't yell, he was remarkably calm, just the great Lockhart snarl. And two not so subtly threats.

-Which were?

-Invite german tabloid BILD for an exclusive story, how Germany's greatest hero is treated in an american military hospital.

-Uhm, I hope that didn't happen.

-No. The second offer was something like 'It's one, I repeat one, call to the president and your ass is hauled to a fucking warzone shithole where you'll perform amputations in field hospital until fucking kingdom come. This man served his country for 15 years in wars the world doesn't even know about while your ass was warm and cozy in a civilized country. So you better fucking adjust your service to him or you get a taste of that for your own.'

-I wish I had witnessed that.

-It happened in your room. But if it had been for any other circumstances...yeah, it was pretty great. Dar was there too. But, I hadn't witnessed the showdown between Lockhart and Dar. That happened in Dar's office. But afterwards, he was all supportive, although he still said, you wouldn't wanna live like that. I never mentioned my promise to him. Lockhart made me your guardian by going to a german court the next week. Dar supported that, gave a character witness for me. Somehow he managed that my own medical history didn't show up in my CIA's resumee. 

-Before I woke up, I...I don't know, don't laugh, but I think, I knew you were there. It's not that I can say that I felt or heard, but on the other side of the fog...

-They said there was hope you'd hear me or notice me or whatever. I read to you eight hours a day. I laid next to you every night telling you how sorry I am, asking you to make a decision, whether you want to live or die, but not to stay in the inbetween. And you made that decision, you came back.

-I did. Thanks for telling me all that.

-Not angry?

-Not at all. Why should I? You had my back, when I needed you most. Glad. Grateful. Not that I'm intending it, but...if that should ever happen again...maybe something with a bit more, uhm, style, but not a pillow?

-I'll see what I can come up with then. But I'd rather not.

-Come here. Any more dark secrets? No? Good. Then let's sleep now.

He pulled her into an even tighter embrace, slipped his hand under her shirt and kissed her. It was a bit longer and a bit more intense as one would expect from a good night kiss.

A while later, she was just about to drift away, he pulled her pillow away from under her head.

-Hey!

-No pillows for you. But I'll share mine. Want you to be closer anyway.


	10. Monday Morning

Monday Morning

He slept surprisingly well, without taking the pill and even after all those heavy conversations last night. At some point he woke up because Carrie was tossing and turning and muttering something he couldn't quite understand. A nightmare probably. He pulled her back into his arm, wrapped his other arm around her and softly spoke to her until she calmed down again, without really having been awake. So I'm making bad dreams go away too, he thought and drifted back into sleep as well.

Very early in the morning, probably close to 5am, as it was slowly getting twighlighted in the room, he woke up again, Carrie still engulfed in his arms, as he had heard tiny footsteps entering the room. Frannie stood next to the bed, carefully studying the new sleeping arrangements.

He wasn't quite sure to handle this, but let go of Carrie first and then scuttled a bit away.

-Don't you have a cuddly bunny?

-Uhm, no, I don't.

-You can have one of mine. Not Hugo, but one of the others. Mum's too big for a cuddly bunny and you can't take her with you.

Jeez, and it was even before his first coffee, he thought.

She crawled into the bed on Carrie's side, smiled at him and laid down, out of his sight now. A very sweet soft snoring told him five minutes later she was back asleep. He grapped his morning pills and swallowed them, they could start do their mojo now, so he wouldn't be too stiff when it was wake up time.

Next time he woke up from a now very light sleep, it was Carrie, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her body against his, very warm and promising, searching for his mouth, muttering 'good morning' before she kissed him. Rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains. It took him a couple of seconds to regain enough conciousness to peak over Carrie's shoulder and check on Frannie, who was still sound asleep. Carrie's one hand had used the time to travel south and was already at the waistband of his pj, slipping inside and down to his ass.

-I can't believe you won't be here tonight, I'll miss you. And I'll miss that...I just dreamt...

And she kissed him again, and pressed herself a bit closer. Well, he was only human, just a moment more. He held her close.

-I'll miss you, too. And that, too, although it's...kind of...frustrating...

-I know...just a moment longer...it's...so good.

He really had to stop this know or she would kill him. Not with a heart attack or stroke, she'd probably shoot him and he knew he had it coming, but it was so good...and fun...Frannie still slept but her eyelids fluttered, he had to be quick now.

-We really should stop now.

-Just...I know I said 'no' last night but...just a bit longer...

Now her other hand went down into his pants too, pulling him against her crotch with firm pressure.

-No, we really should stop now, unless you want someone witnessing us.

The timing had been perfect. Frannie stirred the second he finished his sentence and Carrie literally jumped out of her skin.

-Frannie...good morning, sweet pea. Since when are you here? I didn't hear you coming in.

Quinn chuckled in her back. 

-Peter saw me. He needs a cuddly bunny, he had to cuddle you instead.

-Did he? Uhm, well, how about if I get your breakfast ready and Peter's getting ready for the day...probably with the icecold shower he deserves...

He still chuckled and looked very satisfied.

-You and I talk in a minute.

But she smiled too. 

\-----------------

He was under the - hot - shower for a couple of minutes, when he heard the door latch, a soft klick, and then saw Carrie stepping in front of the shower. He briefly wondered what he had done to give her the impression he might need help or a lecture about appropriate jokes right here and now and whether she was overstepping his comfort zone of accepting help here or not. He liked that she cared but still...

He had to reevaluate very quickly because next thing he saw was Carrie raising her arms and getting rid of her top, then lowering the waistband of her pj pants and stepping out of these too. She was beautiful. And he couldn't believe it. Just yesterday he had thought...but she had always been the more unconventional of the two of them...

She stepped under the shower, coming close, wrapping her arms around his waist.

-Okay?

-Okay is not exactly the word...Jesus...Carrie...

-Where did we get interrupted...just like this...

Her sudden closeness, her body soft and slick pressed to his, seeing her naked...difficult...good thing the monitor wasn't waterproof and lay outside...

-Just breathe, ok? Can you do that for me? After I didn't smother you and you came that far in rehab, it would be a pity if I had to explain to a police officer why you suffered a stroke or heart attack in my shower...naked...

-Oh, I think that police officer would certainly be able to do the maths and would knew what happened, black widow, that's what you are.

-We have only seven minutes. Frannie is watching Thomas on the Ipad. But just one episode.

He bent down to kiss her.

-Carrie, I really don't think we should...

-No, we shouldn't. But...this is nice too...

And she kissed him back. And let her hand run down his spine. God, he really had to find a way to speed up his recovery.

-Just don't forget to breathe slowly. And if you think it's not ok, I'll be gone in a second. But I'd like to stay.

-Then fucking do...

And he kissed her again, pressing the shower button again at the same time. Now that was fucking progress. Two completly different movements simultanously at the same time, what a shame that he couldn't brag about that in PT...

They spent their minutes under the shower with kissing, his hand wandered up and around to cup and caress her breast, and then he washed her hair and whereas it was not at all close to what he wanted to do, it was perfect. He knew, the image of Carrie, naked in his arm, pressed against his body, would be with him all week, probably longer. 

And if that wasn't a good way to start a new week, then he didn't now.

\----------------------

They had dropped Frannie at daycare. Before Carrie had walked her in Frannie had offered Quinn to show him the place.

-Sweetie, Peter will do this another day. I really need to bring him back to his doctor now.

Carrie insisting had saved him from going public in a kindergarden, but still, he had wanted to say good bye to Frannie, so he had gotten out of the car and had squatted down. Before he had been able to say anything, she had pressed the teddy she had carried with her in his hand.

-This is Paddy. You can borrow him. So you don't have to go alone.

He had hugged her, following an sudden need, and her chubby arms had went around his shoulders, when she had hugged him too.

-I'll see you next week, Frannie, thank you.

He had been very silent since then, just had placed his hand on her knee. She had just let him, had stayed silent too, but had placed her hand over his hand whenever it was not required at the driving wheel or gearstick.

Traffic was light as they were going out of town, opposite to the crowd coming in for work. It was a beautiful sunny day.

They didn't talk until they reached the small coastal town where the narrow road up to the clinic started.

-How do you feel about a cup of coffee and a short walk to the harbour? It's very quiet here in the mornings. Or do you wanna go back right away?

-I don't need to be there before noon, well, maybe half an hour earlier. How do you know it's quiet?

-I sleep down there, at the harbour, when visiting you.

Carrie got the coffee, he felt comfortable for a first walk outside but not a one on one with a Barista.

It was just a short stroll from the parking lot to the harbour where they sat on a bench.

-It's really quiet.

-Yeah, it's louder in the early morning when the fishing boats come in. See, my hotel is the white one over there. Usually I'm in the room with the large balcony. Maybe I really should bring Frannie one weekend and the three of us stay there together.

-I'd like that.

-You are very quiet this morning.

She leant in and kissed him, soft and tender.

-I know it's hard. But I'll be back Wednesday. And Saturday, we go home for the weekend. I'll try to be early Friday, maybe we can go for dinner down here, fish and chips. We could ask Jim to join us.

-Carrie, it's ok. I'll make it through another week. It's just...the transition...that's difficult. 

He kissed her, starting as just a bit more than a peck but then he seemed to reconsider and leant in closer and deepened the kiss. This was good-bye after all and if anyone was going to recognize him...what the hell...sarin gas victim madly in love was a better headline than sarin gas victim still alive...

An hour later, after another stop at the coffee house to get an americano for Jim, sugar and a dash of milk, Carrie drove him up to the clinic. He had asked her not to come in. Most of their good bye had happened down at the harbour.

-Give Jim a hug from me. And the whiskey.

-I'll give him the whiskey but a hug...sorry...won't happen.

She chuckled and looked at him.

-Come here, I wanna kiss you just once more.

When they parted she didn't let go of his hand.

-I have something for you to think about through your procedure.

-Carrie, please...

-When you are done here and come home, how about the two of us going on holiday, just you and me? Text me where you wanna go.

He kissed her again, whispered 'I love you' in her ear and went slowly to the entrance.

\--------------

Two hours later, just a minute before she arrived back home, she received a text message:

-Italy. In october. Just you and me.

 

THE END


End file.
